


Odds Aren’t in Our Favor

by NexusPhenomena



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse - Child and Domestic, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Andrew Garfield!Spidey/Ryan Reynolds!Deadpool, Angst, BAMF Wade, Character Death, Cruel Voices, Everyone Needs A Hug, Handsome Wade Wilson, Hint of Gwen/Mary-Jane, M/M, Minor Character Death, No underage, Sad Peter, Scarred Wade Wilson, Some Fluff, Some Humor, Violence, Violent Wade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 84,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NexusPhenomena/pseuds/NexusPhenomena
Summary: What happens when the world is forced to sacrifice children in the name of order and justice? The Games are the result. Wade had never been lucky in life and as he made his way into District 12, fate showed him just how much they didn’t like him. Now scarred from his experiences, he must deal with helping the new tributes make their way through the games. Can he help keep one of them alive?Peter has suffered so much in life as it is and when it’s finally his turn for the games, will he be able to make it out alive? What will he lose along the way or is there possibly anything to gain?
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84
Collections: Spideypool Big Bang - The 2019 Collection





	1. Struggles

**Author's Note:**

> After many hours of angst, I am happy to release this Hunger Games Au to all! I'd like to first thank the amazing mods of this Big Bang. You guys should seriously check out their tumblr or twitter because they put so much hard work into this and keeping all of us organized. So much love to them.
> 
> A special thanks to the other writers who if you haven't read their fics yet, PLEASE DO! Thank you so much for keeping me going when I was struggling with writing for two months. You guys rock the bomb dot com. The late night sprints and shared screaming pushed me to finish this bad boy.
> 
> I also want to send a massive thanks to my artist [Chez](https://petitechez-theminion.tumblr.com/), legit I couldn't have done this without them. You'll get to see their amazing art in this fic and let me tell you, they worked so hard on it. IT MOVES GUYS! I still can't even. Please go check out their tumblr and tell them how amazing they are! Also a special thanks for listening to me ramble and telling me where I need more scenes. Thank you~
> 
> Now I've filibustered enough, so enjoy!

The shrill scream of sirens had become a daily occurrence that was near deafening to Wade’s ears. The cries of panic were a close second that became the music of District 13. The constant state of chaos and noise was a strange norm within the district. It had taken the ‘leader’ far too long to decide that it would be safer to reside within the bunkers permanently. The automated voice of a man long dead filled the space between sirens, sobs and the rumble of bombs dropping on the surface above. Debris shook from the concrete ceiling that had more cracks than it did earlier that week. Wade stared up at one of the cracks above him, noting how it looked wider than before as small pebbles loosened and fell onto him. His head was pillowed in his mother’s lap as she ran her fingers soothingly through his blonde hair. She took a small break from humming to mutter about Wade’s hair getting too long. He knew it was, but between the military drills and the constant terror of death, he found himself not caring.

A snort followed by a shuffle from the bed beside him tore Wade’s gaze from the ceiling to the lump of his father. Thomas had taken it upon himself to commandeer the bed to sleep off one of his drunken dazes while Wade and his mom sat against the solid floor. Wade didn’t even try to hide the sneer that grew across his face before he tore his eyes away. He wasn’t exactly sure why they had to stay near the man when he was supposed to be in a completely different bunker; far, far away from Wade and his mother. He had a feeling that the order didn’t come through with all the chaos. A seed of anger grew the more he thought of it and what the man had done.

Wade could swear that it had happened weeks ago but their situation had lasted for months, if not years. The man that was supposedly his father had found outlets that were considered illegal. Thomas had been a strong member of District 13’s military and he wore that honor proudly. Overtime, the time spent underground and being unused caused the man a number of issues. He lacked the ease of relaxation and found idle time to be his worst enemy. His actions started small and away from the shared quarters of his family. Little back room scuffles turned into brawls in hallways. Each time he would be pulled in by his superiors and reprimanded, though his complaints went unheard. He turned to other vices, finding illegal smuggling of alcohol to be the easiest. It started small, as most things do, but addiction grew quickly. Thomas found himself spending little time sober and his unbridled rage grew.

At home, Wade’s mother, Hailey, did her best for her son. She would tell Wade that he was the bright light in a world of darkness and routine. She doted on him whenever she could and tried to fill the void of the typically vacant hole that should have housed Thomas. The pair didn't dwell on that but Wade held resentment for the man that forced his mother to work twice as hard to provide. As Thomas’s troubles grew, a shift formed within the family. Wade would come home from his schooling and training to screams and shouts. Most days he would get home as the noise petered out and his mother would quickly distract him while Thomas disappeared like always. As the screams became routine, Wade began noticing a change. Thomas would come home tipsy and lean on Hailey. She would typically push him away until he stumbled out the door but some days were not so lucky. The bruises started small and Hailey did her best to hide them from Wade’s observant eyes. She would always click her tongue and change topics, but Wade wasn't deterred.

When the bruises grew larger and harder to hide, Wade’s resentment quickly evolved into a deep seeded anger. He nursed it and let it grow in him; just waiting for it to bloom at the perfect time. That time had come some months ago when the sirens were rare and life proceeded as normally as it could be underground. He was meandering home, taking time to walk through less used corridors to keep away from others. He had started doing this when he realized just how much he didn't want to go home. He hated going back to that room and being forced to see the suffering of his mom. Each step brought him closer until he could see their door a few paces ahead. Typically Wade would have stayed in the hallway for a while but when he heard a shriek of pain, his body moved automatically. The door shifted open to see Thomas gripped his mother’s wrist while a deep gash bled openly on her cheek. Wade saw red as his anger finally let loose. His body lunged forward and a shout formed. A fist connected with a turning face and a body hit the floor. The air grew tense as Hailey pushed herself away, putting her hands against her bleeding cheek. Wade stumbled forwards as Thomas reeled sideways from the punch. A small drop of blood slid out of Thomas's slightly opened mouth but the initial shock wore away quickly. His grip on his knife tightened as he turned a drunken glare onto Wade. Wade was still recovering, still green in his military training, that he missed his opportunity to get away. The whoosh of air and a cry of shock was Wade's only indication that something had happened before pain made itself known. His hand covered a gaping wound that was bleeding into his eye as he tumbled backwards. His gasp of pain was covered by the shriek of his mother and their doors slamming open.

The next thing that Wade knew was his mother sitting next to him while he lay on a hospital bed. He spent a week in the hospital or within their bunker, healing the gash. He was lucky that the knife only managed to strike the surface of his face and not hit his eye. His mother told Wade that Thomas was no longer allowed to stay with them. It was hard for Wade to feel any relief but he managed a smile for his mother. Fate had different plans for the Wilson family as not a few weeks later, the bombing grew worse and now they were stuck in cramped quarters.

He must have been clenching his jaw because Hailey’s hand stopped and she clicked her tongue. She remained silent before gently saying, “Wade, you’re going to break your teeth if you keep that up.”

Wade’s eyes fell onto his mother’s face and although she had spoken in a soft voice, her face was firm. He couldn’t help but laugh and he relaxed, “Sorry mom, just thinking.”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t know you thought.”

He gasped as he propped a hand on his chest, “You have wounded me. This is your beloved son wounded.”

Hailey laughed as her head leaned back against the metal frame of the bed. They fell back into a comfortable silence as the rumbling above seemed to slow until there was no noise. Breaking the silence were some sobs of panic or relief; it was always hard to tell the difference. The anticipation of whether another bombing was going to start or if they were in the clear sat heavily in the air. Time passed slowly before the bunker guards shouted an all clear. There was an audible sigh of relief as a small amount of conversations grew. Thomas let out a loud snort as he rolls over on the bed, the springs squeaking as the mattress let everyone nearby know the weight that it was dealing with. Wade’s gaze went back to the ceiling as he stared at the larger crack. He was starting to imagine seeing sunlight through it and fresh air; both things that he had never actually seen. As he let his mind wander, the world around him blurred.

By the time that Wade came back, the lights had been turned off. The only noise that he heard was a low whisper that he couldn’t clearly hear yet. He grunted as he rolled over on the hard floor, but thanked the pillow under his head.

“I don’t care what you think Thomas. I’m doing what is best for Wade and myself. You can stay here and rot for all I care.” Hailey’s voice cut through Wade’s tired mind.

“You’re an idiot if you think you can get outta here.” Thomas’s rumble made Wade tense up.

“I’m not going to stay here and wait until the bombs kill us. I don’t care if you come with us and I think we’ll be perfectly fine without you to weigh us down.”

“Watch yourself woman.” Thomas snapped back.

“We’re done talking Thomas. We’re leaving in the morning. You can tell whatever lie you want to the guards. I doubt they’ll care.” The sound of springs creaking was Wade’s signal that his mom had gotten up. He pushed himself up on his elbows as he looked over at her.

“Mom?”

Hailey’s face quickly morphed from firm to soft when she heard Wade’s voice, “Did you sleep well sweetheart?”

“Yeah… what was that about?”

“Don’t worry too much about that. Get some more sleep, you’ll need it.” Hailey shifted back down onto the ground, taking Wade’s head back into her lap and her fingers start combing through his hair. Wade mumbles as he shifts to bury his face into her lap and drifted off to sleep.

Being shaken awake was something that Wade had grown used to over the years. He opened his eyes and rubbed away the last bits of sleep. His mother was standing over him, two full bags in hand. The lights were still out but she held a lighter out to illuminate around her. She held out her hand and pulled Wade up before putting a bag in his empty hands. Before he could say anything, she put a single finger over her mouth and glanced towards the steel bulkhead of the bunker. All questions could wait was the only thing that Wade thought as he shuffled the backpack on. Quietly the pair slipped by the too few patrolling guards and towards the now partially open bulkhead.

It was almost sad how badly defended District 13 was now. In the days before the war with the Capital, District 13 was a beacon of military ingenuity and nuclear arms. Now it was crumbling away along with everything else that made this district stand out. Making their way through the decaying ruins of the district until they got to an opening was a silent affair. The moment that the outside world came into Wade’s view he was stunned. Much of the earth around them was cratered and smoking but off in the distance, there were trees. The sky above them was quickly turning light as the sun began to roll over the horizon. It was awe inspiring as Wade stared out to this alien world.

His mother let out a soft laugh as she put her hand on Wade’s neck, “Welcome to the world sweetheart.”

“Mom… it’s beautiful…” His voice came out more breathless than he wanted to admit but he couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Mm… It was truly that once, but the Capitol’s greed tore what we once had to shreds. We don’t have much time, we need to clear these ruins by noon or we will risk the bombs.”

At the mention of bombs, Wade quickly refocused and gave his mom a nod. With that, they quickly trekked across the ruins of the old District. Their travel was only slowed when they reached dead ends or a particularly different climb. The treeline grew larger and larger until Wade was surrounded by them. He took a moment to tilt his head up and gaze up to some of the barren branches and the resilient leaves that refused to give up. For the first time in months, a real smile grew over his face at this feeling of freedom that was so new to him. He turned his head to call out to his mother but closed his mouth when he saw the way that she was staring back to the ruined buildings. He hesitated before walking next to her, slipping his hand into hers and giving her hand a squeeze.

“I find myself… having difficulty letting it go sweetheart. This was all I have truly known.” Hailey’s voice was so soft that Wade almost had a hard time hearing her.

He was at a loss for words as he stared out on what probably would have been his home if not for the bombs. They remained silent for a time but a broken siren shrieked out a demented sound that would have been their sound to return to the bunker. They listened for a time before Hailey looked down at Wade and smiled, “That seems a fitting goodbye, a reminder on why we are leaving. Come on Wade, we have a long distance to make it to District 12.”

“Why are we going there?”

Hailey sighed, giving Wade’s hand one more squeeze before letting go and walking into the woods. Wade watched her walk ahead of him, not giving him an answer before he glanced back. The demented sound of the siren setting him on edge. He wasn’t sure why they were going to 12, but he doubted that his mother would lead him astray. Turning away from the ruins, he followed after Hailey, each step taking him closer to a new world.

Traveling through the forest of District 13 turned out to be far more boring than Wade had initially thought. That wasn’t to say there was nothing to do but an overabundance. He quickly learned that there were skills he was severely lacking in and his mother was trying to compensate for him. He was growing frustrated for the lack of proper training but his mother was there to quickly soothe him with kind and encouraging words. Every moment Wade had to spare, he was bombarding his mother with questions. How was he supposed to remember exactly what berries were meant to eat, heal and harm? What is the best way to hunt when there is a lack of proper equipment? Why were they going to District 12 and not running out of Panem?

His mother patiently answered each question, except for the last, she would always grow quiet and change the subject. It frustrated Wade more than anything. As the days turned into weeks, Wade adapted to life in the wilderness. His open mind helped filter information as he began to understand the world around them. It had taken many failed attempts and many more scratches and cuts, but eventually he managed to make lures and traps for food. His own training helped make weapons easy, but his mother was the one to truly help him hone his skills. She taught him the proper way to shoot with a bow and where to hold his elbow so he wouldn’t risk injury. She taught him how to properly skin an animal and how to tan the hide so they could use it. She taught him mercy for the larger animals who got snared and when it would be appropriate for such a feast.

They kept light in their packing and used everything that they had. Very little was taken with them but what they did take, Hailey assured Wade that they would need for their new life. Wade found that if he asked about District 12, his mother would grow quiet, but if she spoke of it; then he would gain information. He grasped at anything that she would give him but knew not to push for more.

As they set out a fire for that night’s dinner with the rabbits that Wade had hunted earlier that day, Wade thought back to District 13. Did the Capitol finally bomb the little remains? Was everyone gone? The last thought stopped Wade as he looked to the spit that he had paused in rolling. He opened his mouth to ask his mother something when a loud crack echoed over the crackling fire. Wade froze and shot up, his hands already going for his pocket knife. The crack was followed by rustling and crunching of someone or something walking through the woods. Wade looked over to Hailey, but she had her bow drawn and an arrow set, ready for whatever came. Ever so quietly, Wade spoke, “Mo-”

Wade didn’t get a chance to answer before he heard the telltale whistling of an arrow singing through the air, followed by a far too close thud. His gaze snapped forward and he saw Thomas, leaning against a tree with an arrow embedded deeply into his stomach. What little light was provided by the fire showed the wound openly bleeding with a look that was fighting between rage and disbelief on Thomas's face. Wade found that he couldn’t look away as he watched Thomas collapse onto the ground, leaning his body weight against a tree.

“Why are you here?” Hailey’s voice hardened as she lowered her bow.

Thomas gave a wheeze that could only mean that the air nicked his lung, “Came after you.”

Wade watched his mother walk by him as she pushed her bow into Wade’s arms. He watched as she stormed over to Thomas. Her body blocking light as she leaned over him. Wade could hear a soft rumble of a whisper being exchanged between his parents before he heard a grunt. He moved to take a step forward, his feet connecting with a patch of dried brush that echoed a crunch. Hailey shot a hand out, telling Wade to wait as she kneeled down, keeping the hand out for a while. Slowly her hand curled in on itself and she brought her hand back towards herself and the woods grew silent. Wade watched anxiously for what felt like an eternity before his mother stood up. This time when Wade moved to meet her, she didn’t stop him. When Wade joined her, she leaned against him and he held onto her as the pair looked down at the body of Thomas. Wade stared at the man that was his father and found that he felt nothing but numbness. He glanced over at his mom who was now holding the arrow that used to be in Thomas’s stomach and pulled her away. She offered no resistance as he sat her down in her spot, pulling the arrow out of her grip and setting it aside.

“Mom?” Wade spoke as quietly as he could but fell silent when his mom stared blankly at the fire. The joyous crackle filling the now silent woods. Wade swore as he looked at the now half blackened hare as he rushed over to quickly flip the animal on the spit.

“I hope you like your food blackened mom.” Wade weakly chuckled but got no response back. He cleared his throat as he tried to think about how she felt. He found himself clenching his jaw but remained silent, turning his attention to the hare. A few minutes later, Wade pulled off the cooked animal and tore off pieces, placing them in a handkerchief and put it gently into his mother’s lap. They spent the evening in silence before Wade helped put his mother to bed. He glanced over to Thomas’s body and let out a disgruntled sigh. He may have no feelings towards the man, but his mom was clearly upset. He reached into his bag and pulled out a compact shovel. He set to work, digging the man a shallow grave. After the grave was dug and Wade had dragged his body into the hole, he filled it up and looked down at the mound of earth.

“I didn’t do this for me, you son of a bitch. If it were up to me, I would have left you against that tree to rot in the sun. It’s what you deserve for everything you did.” Wade paused, clenching his fist as his gaze turned into a glare, “But mom needs this. I did this so she can feel better.”

He kneeled down, lowering his voice so only himself and Thomas could hear, “But don’t you worry. I kept it shallow, I would hate to starve these animals of a meal. Rot in hell asshole.”

Wade brushed off himself as he looked up at the sky was brightening. He rubbed his dirt covered hands over his face as he groaned. He mumbled to himself before he went over to his bedroll, accepting that he was only going to get a few hours of sleep. By the time he woke up, the sun was well into the sky and well past the time they typically started their trek. He sat up abruptly, looking around frantically.

“Relax sweetheart.” His mom’s voice calmed him as he looked to her, she was stoking a dying fire. She didn’t turn to look at him but she gave him a smile, “Thank you.”

Wade shrugged and started to put away his supplies. Before he could ask, she handed him a handkerchief of meat, “Eat Wade. We won’t be leaving this moment, so please don’t inhale your food too quickly. I’ll take care of the camp.”

He looked down at his food and sat back down, leaning against his packed backpack. He ate slowly as he watched Hailey finish taking down their campsite and putting out the remains of the fire. Before long, the food was finished and their campsite no longer existed. They walked onwards into the forest. Most of the remaining weeks trekking through the mountains and forests were uneventful after that night. Neither Wade nor Hailey spoke of it and they preferred it that way. It was at dusk when they saw the first glimpses of District 12, or at least that is what Hailey told Wade. They stood in the treeline, while Wade looked at the tall fence that seemed to stretch on for miles.

“Are they trying to keep them or keep everyone else out?” Wade spoke absentmindedly.

“It’s both, but District 12 has grown lax with their distance to the Capitol. The Peace Keepers here are a far stretch from what they are anywhere else, but Wade…” Hailey paused and Wade looked over to her. She waited until she could see his eyes and put her hands on his cheeks, “I need you to keep your temper here. Just because they aren’t as strict, doesn’t mean they won’t beat you for speaking against them. Please, for me, be calm.”

Wade’s eyes shifted between her eyes, looking for any sign of a lie, but he nodded when he saw the truth. She leaned forward and kissed his head before walking into the open fields. Wade followed close behind her. She spoke softly, “We are going to meet an old acquaintance, she’s getting us into the district.”

“Why?”

His question didn’t get a response as they got closer to the fence. With the sun quickly disappearing, the shadows were growing larger with the lack of light coming from the shacks of homes that resided nearby. Wade pushed closer to his mother in some vain attempt to keep her safe. A whistle sounding very much like a bird call out from across the fence, hidden somewhere in the shadows. Wade tensed when he heard his mother answer. It fell silent for a time before the sound of shuffling started to draw closer.

“Al.” Hailey whispered out.

The air grew tense as silence was her only answer. Wade grabbed his mother’s hand and opened his mouth to make a suggestion of leaving before a cough cut through his attempt. The cough was followed by some rustling and a colorful swear. Shortly after, a small light flickered on, casting the shadows in a warm glow.

“What took you so long? Do you think this is how I want to spend my evenings? Waiting for you in the cold.” A raspy voice whispered out. Wade wanted so badly to snark back but his mother’s sigh of relief stopped him.

“You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice Al.” His mother offered a small laugh as she moved closer to the fence, not close enough to touch but clear to hear.

“Yeah yea, you can shower me in all kinds of praise when you get here. Fence is off right now but they’ll be turning it on soon. So don’t stand there shivering.” The voice, Al, snarked off. Wade bit at his tongue as he followed after his mom while they slipped in through a break between the wiring of the fence and wooden post. They joined Al in the shadows and now that they were close, Wade could clearly make out Al’s darkened skin and the twists of grey hair that were streaking through black. Though, it was the cloudiness of Al’s eyes that really stunned Wade.

“Fuck! You were standing here blind this whole time?!” Wade bit out. Though he winced when he saw his mother’s disapproving stare, quickly looking away.

Thankfully for Wade, Al just offered a toothy grin as she kept her face tilted towards Hailey, “Your raisin’ ‘em real bright out in 13, aren’t ya?”

Wade’s face reddens at the clear jab, but he mumbles out what sounds like a ‘sorry’ while his mother just clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

“You’ll have to excuse him Al, he has no filter.”

Al just hums as she tilts her head as if she was trying to hear something, “Patrol will be startin’ soon, better get home quick. Well son, you willin’ to help your dear old grandmother out.”

Al held out a hand and Wade glanced between her hand and his mother with a pained expression. He stared at his mother longer before finally blurting out, “You can’t honestly expect people to believe we’re related.”

“Wade!” Hailey shot a disapproving glare at him while Al just let out a low laugh.

“Not with that attitude son. Though, you keep talkin’ like that and you’ll be black enough from the beatin’ to match me.”

Wade sucked in a breath as he took Al’s hand. He grumbled lowly under his breath while Al pulled him forward and she laughed again. She whispered to him, “Ya might want to keep that language to a minimum around the peacekeepers boy. Some of the fresh ones won’t be too shy about snappin’.”

Wade glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and he found himself smirking. He found himself appreciating her snark, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the dejected voices of 13 and the calm of his mother. Perhaps 12 wasn’t going to be so bad.

~*~

Life in District 12 was odd for Wade. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse than 13, but the one thing that seemed to be universal was that people suffered. When he was in 13, the bombs and the constant presence of death, hung over everyone’s head like a storm cloud. In 12, people suffered because of a lack of damn near everything. Even then, the clear divide between those who struggled less and those who struggled more cause Wade to sneer disgusted at those who lived in the Merchant Quarter. When they first came, Al had brought them to her small shack within what was called the Seam. Her house sat comfortably within a small patch of trees and she appeared to have everything that she needed. Hailey slipped in seamlessly into 12, with a rumor spreading of a girl from the Square falling in love with a man from the Seam. It seemed to spurn on romantic rumors of Wade’s father that caused his temper to rise each time he heard the whispers.

Hailey stayed with Al during the day, taking care of her ‘elderly grandmother’. Wade, on the other hand, was taken into the school and tested on his knowledge. There were many times that his loud mouth had gotten him thrown out of the class, but that suited him just fine. He took that time to wander the streets, sneaking into the Hob to take in the real heart of District 12. Wade would spend so much time wandering around to the different vendors before they shooed him away. Wade would always respond with a laugh and move on, there was so much more life here.

Although the day was spent putting on a show, night was a time for Hailey and Wade to bond and escape. They would slip out into the woods, sometimes to hunt and other times to just talk. Wade always looked forward to spending time with his mother away from the chaos that stewed around them. The night time was their time to unwind from any stress that they had been feeling. Wade would talk about school ever so often, when he was actually in class, he would fill his mom in on the ridiculous rumors and his classmates. Wade would fill the silence that grew each time they slipped out into the woods. He didn’t mind, talking was one thing he could always do, even when he was told not to.

The seasons shifted and time passed, while Wade and Hailey grew more comfortable within the district. Summer shifted into fall and the pair worked hard in preparation for winter. They helped where they could and when winter did roll around, they had planned accordingly. The snow and cold was harsh and Hailey, Wade and Al each got a cold that sat with each of them for a while. When spring broke, Wade and Al both got better rather quickly but Hailey’s cough stuck with her. She would always brush it off, saying that it was a tickle in her throat but when Wade saw Al’s frown deepens each time she coughed; he got worried. Spring didn’t seem to last long before it gave way to the burning heat of summer.

Wade had aged one more year when summer had come around and his schooling was considered done. At the ripe age of 18, he knew that more responsibility was about to be shoved onto him. But for now, Wade did as he normally did and wandered the town until he got to the Hob. This place had become a safe haven for Wade and he offered a nod to some of the patrons who were slowly working around their stands. The unusual lack of noise was unnerving to him and he tried to crack the occasional joke to break it. It had worked a couple of times before his usual brash humor was only greeted by tension. He had shrugged it off and moved on back to the shack. Wade noticed on his walk, that there was a lack of children playing. In fact there was a lack of just about anyone on the mud ridden roads.

Upon reaching the shack, Wade noticed Al was sweeping the best that she could, “Heya grams, you’re sweeping the dirt.”

Al swept out her hand as tutted at him, “Oh hush your mouth, you loud ass.”

Wade smirked and flopped down onto the porch, leaning back and causing the old, warped wood to groan in protest, “Mom inside?”

Al hummed a response but focused on sweeping, her feet shuffling against the wood, one hand held out on the railing to prevent herself from falling off. Wade fell silent and watched around them. The uneasy quiet was starting to get to him before he turned his tilted his head to watch Al, “Do you know what’s going on with everyone?”

Al paused for a moment before shaking her head, “Come on now, you can’t be that stupid.”

“What? I’m serious, what’s going on?”

Al did stop and turned her body to face Wade, “Boy, don’t you know what season it is?”

“Well yeah, it’s summer. I’m not that much of an idiot Al.”

Al fell silent as she seemed to be taking in what Wade had said, “No the reaping will be soon.”

“Uh.. pretty sure we don’t do much gardenin’ there Al.”

“Reaping for the Hunger Games Wade.” Al’s tone quickly grew harsh as she snapped at him.

“Uh… okay so what the fuck is that? Aren’t games usually a happy thing? 12 could clearly use some cheering up apparently.”

“Wade Winston Wilson.” Al snapped at him. Wade tensed and sat up when he heard his full name. He kept his mouth closed as Al shuffled closer to him, “You shut your fool mouth.”

Al was radiating anger for a few moments before she let it slip and she hunched over. She quietly spoke, “I forgot you wouldn’t actually know about this. You’ve gone and done so well with blending in that even I forgot.”

She nudged Wade to move over as she slowly slid down to join him on the porch. The wood squeaked with added protest before falling silent as Al let a sigh escape, “The Hunger Games are a time where two children from each district go to fight… to the death.”

Wade sucked in a breath as he quickly wished he had kept his mouth shut. Al’s hand reached out and landed on Wade’s knee after a few attempts. She gingerly patted it before she continued, “We’ve only been lucky once and had someone return. These ‘games’ have taken a lot from the families here in 12. This has gone on for so long and we only have one to show for it…”

“But why…”

“There’s some propaganda about why but I’ve been on this world long enough to know when I’m being spoon fed crap.” Al’s tone gave way to her usual snark, but there was still a softness to her words. She was quiet for a time before she spoke, “We have to get you registered Wade.”

Wade’s body tensed as he looked at her in shock. He didn’t get a chance to say anything before she continued, “You’re still of the age to be called, last year you were lucky not to be here in time but I still put your name in. Thankfully you weren’t called but we had to set a trend… but now you’re here so you will have to show up.”

They fell silent as Wade let it all sink in. He couldn’t help but feel that they had merely jumped into a larger frying pan after getting out of the frying pan of 13. A small amount of anger grew as he abruptly stood up and stormed into the shack. He ignored Al calling after him and threw open the door to his mother’s room. Today has been a rough day for her, her cough had caused a dizzy spell, so she just opted to stay in bed. She looked surprised at Wade’s entrance and opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

“You knew about this didn’t you? These games. You took us out of 13 and brought us here. We were safer in the woods but no, you decided it’d be better here. In a fucking district that sends kids off to die, you thought this was a better option! You wanted to get out of 13 so badly that you were willing to put your son up as collateral?! Fuck you!”

Hailey watched Wade shout at her with wide eyes. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to keep herself calm. She tried to take in calm breaths but that only caused her to start coughing. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth, the coughing sounding more ragged and raspy. Hailey leaned forward as she tried to take in a breath but the coughing was preventing that. Little dots started to cross over her vision before she flopped to the side of the bed, falling unconscious.

~*~

The hushed whispers from the next room buzzed by Wade’s ears like a fly. To halt the noise, he slammed his hands against his ears, gripping tightly at the flesh as he hunched forward. When the doctor had finally finished her check up on Hailey, Wade only got a few words before his mind collapsed in on itself. But he wasn’t completely stupid to fill in the blanks. His mother was dying because of the stupid bombs from 13. Her body was killing her because of something in those bombs and now the doctor knew the truth. A small victory was the doctor didn’t seem to care, only wanted to do the best for his mother.

The worst part of finding out about Hailey’s fate was the fact that Wade was the cause for the stress that seemed to inflame it. He had lost control of his temper and yelled at his own mother. His mother who has done everything in her power to keep him safe and he went and shoved it back in her face. He could quite literally be the worst son alive. He rocked his body forward so he was closer to his knees as he kept digging into his ears. His mind spiraled until the clack of a door closed and the whispers quieted. Wade became hyper-focused on the squeak of the floorboards as he knew Al was shuffling over to check on him. Wade sat up tensed as he attempts to take in a deep breath before letting his body react and racing out his open window. He wasn’t going to stick around and listen to Al yell at him when he was doing such a good job of it himself.

‘ _You’re the worst son._ ’ His mind whispered to him as he flung himself through the cropping of trees.

‘ _How could you do that to her?_ ’ His thoughts continued to beat at him until he realized that he was no longer in the woods. He was on the outskirts of the Square but his feet kept pushing him forward not stopping for anyone or thing in his path. He only stopped when he stumbled over rocks and landed roughly into the crumbled cobblestones of a once paved path. He laid there as he felt the first sob shutter out of his body. He brought torn hands over his face in some feeble attempt of stopping the tears but they continued to flow freely. He could feel the throb of pain coming from his hands, knees and shins but that all paled in comparison to reality.

Wade didn’t know how long he laid there on the ground sobbing until he heard a soft voice next to him. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but when he felt a hand hesitantly touch his shoulder, he pulled his hands away. The sun had shifted its position in the sky and it was now casting deep reds and oranges that were being swallowed by the approaching night sky.

Kneeling in front of him was a boy who couldn’t be older than 10 with a mop of unruly brown hair and brown eyes that were both soft and permanently sad. The boy pulled his hand away and twisted his body to mess with something that was out of Wade’s view. The boy seemed to be muttering to himself but the blood pounding in Wade’s ears prevented him from hearing. Wade rubbed at his face with the side of his hand as he rubbed dirt, tears and blood streaking across his cheeks. He sat up and kept rubbing at his face before the boy brought his attention back to Wade. The boy scoffed at Wade before grabbing his hand away from his face. The boy clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“You’ll only make it worse.” The boy was staring down at Wade’s hands and he couldn’t help but flinch at both the damage done and the words spoken. Wade looked away but didn’t get a chance to stay that way before pain erupted through his hands. He hissed and tried to pull his hands away, but the boy held firm.

“You better stop it or it’ll hurt even more.” The boy kept his voice calm as he proceeded to pour more liquid over Wade’s other hand. Wade bit down on his lip only letting a small whimper escape before the cooling air brought a small amount of ease to the stinging. The boy worked in silence for a time as he dabbed at Wade’s hands until they were dry enough to wrap up in a bandage. Wade watched the boy work and when he was done, pulled his hands away and tucked them close to his chest. The new rawness of his wounds stung as he applied pressure to them. The boy looked exasperated but didn’t say anything before his eyes landed on the stains that seeped through Wade’s pants. Wade followed his gaze before wincing at the words he would get from Al when she noticed the smell.

When a wet rag wiped over Wade’s cheeks, he whipped his head back to look at the boy. That seemed to startle the boy as he pulled back and softly mumbled out a ‘sorry’. Wade couldn’t help but look at the boy and couldn’t prevent his mouth from running away from him, “Why are you doing this?”

The boy must have been startled by Wade speaking because he looked down and a flush passed over his face, “I saw you from the window…”

Wade tilted his head up and looked at the nearby shop with a large pane window in the back. He clenched his jaw as he imagined that this boy must have seen his wonderful meltdown this entire time. He winced when he felt his hands become fists and forced himself to relax, not wanting to reopen anything. He refused to look at the boy, “Well thanks I guess kid. You should probably run back to mommy and daddy before they worry about some Seam kid runnin’ off with their pride and joy.”

The boy winced and hunched in on himself but remained quiet for a time. The silence stretched between them that was filled with crickets chirping in the nearby grasses. The boy seemed to brush off whatever he was feeling because he turned a glare onto Wade, “I’m not a kid. I am 13 thank you very much.”

Wade blinked, stunned for a moment before turning his head to see the boy stood up, clutching a small first aid kit. The boy continued to glare at him, “You’re supposed to be nice to people who help you and actually thank them properly. At least my parents taught me manners unlike yours.”

Wade’s stunned look quickly changes to a glare as he bites back a growl, “Fuck you kid.”

The boy goes to open his mouth before a man’s voice calls out, “Peter! It’s dinner time!”

Wade and the boy, who was apparently named Peter, glared at each other before Peter ran inside, disappearing around the corner of the building. Wade continued to glare where Peter had disappeared before he let out a breath and slumped forward on his battered knees. He winced when he put pressure on the wounds but he remained there until the sun had finally disappeared and the stars came out. Wade shivered on the road for a while before pushing himself up and walking back home slowly.

When he finally made it home the lanterns were dimmed just enough for Wade to make out where furniture was but he missed Al’s shadow sitting in her chair. She cleared her throat when he was almost to his room. Wade froze as if she wouldn’t see him if he just remained still even though she couldn’t actually see him. She clicked her tongue, “Wade.”

The softness of her tone sent shame and guilt cascading through his body as he slumped forward where he stood. He didn’t speak but Al took that as confirmation that she could, “She asked for you when she woke up. She kept saying that she needed to apologize and she kept babbling until she passed out again.”

Wade winced as all the shame and guilt seemed to rest in the base of his body, refusing to let him move. She shook her head before she continued, “Now son, I know this is hard but you can’t go yelling at her for something she couldn’t control.”

Wade tensed his hands into fists, letting the pain push through him but not letting up as though this would ease his guilt, “She could have waited. We didn’t have to leave.”

“And risk what Wade? You could have died months ago in those damned bunkers. You could have died even faster during winter in the woods. She did what she thought was best. She apparently thinks that you’ll not be picked in the games or else she would have done something else. She has faith in you boy, why don’t you have faith in her?”

Wade kept silent, unsure how to answer. He remained where he was for a while before pushing forward and disappearing into his room.

~*~

The day of the reaping was a quiet day in the shack. Wade had yet to find the courage to approach his mother and apologize for being a stubborn hot head. Al took a step up and managed to handle both Wilsons and herself. Whenever Wade tried to help, he could also hear Al muttering about the ‘moodiness of Wilsons’ or ‘too damn stubborn to pull their heads out of their asses’.

Al had set out the bath for Wade, telling him that he needed to be clean and presentable. She had managed to find some clothes to fit on his ever growing frame. Wade bathed and dressed in silence. He fiddled with the buttons of his nice shirt, thankful for the heavy fabric that easily reminded him of the weight of the moment. He shuffled out of his room to see his mother and Al, both leaning on each other. Hailey looked tired and her illness was starting to show through, but to Wade, she looked like an angel. Al had managed to get both of them some nicer dresses, wanting to be presentable. Tears formed in Wade’s eyes as he looked at her.

Hailey leaned away from Al and held her arms out, just in time for Wade to come barreling into her. She gently tutted at his tears and held him close, “Sweetums, it’ll be okay. I’m so sorry Wade.”

Wade held his mother tightly, sobbing into her shoulder while she gently ran her fingers through his hair. They stayed that way until Wade’s sobs turned to hiccups and she pushed him away, “Wade, I need you to be strong for me. We’re going to go to this reaping, you won’t be called and we will come home and talk this through, okay?”

She placed her hands on his cheeks, rubbing away the remaining tears. She smiled as she stood on her tip toes and kissed his forehead. Al cleared her throat and nodded towards the door, “We have to get going or they’ll send peacekeepers.”

Hailey looked at Wade before slipping away, letting Wade leave the house first. Wade walked outside to see a swarm of children in a variety of ages walking towards the Hall of Justice. Easily, Wade joined the hoard as he went through the motions of registering. He didn’t wince when they pricked his finger to receive a drop of blood or when the peacekeepers herded the children into orderly lines in front of the hall. He zoned out when he felt himself boxed in with all the other boys, it felt strangely similar to roll call in 13. When a mic’s crackling broke the eerie silence, Wade half expected his training instructor to call out for name and designation. Instead, he was greeted by the mayor introducing a strangely dressed man who almost seemed hesitant to walk up. Wade could have laughed if this had been anywhere else but there.

The man stumbled over to the mic, bumped into the mic stand and nearly sent the whole thing flying. He managed to get everything squared away before tapping on the mic, “So uh… Welcome to a happy hunger games. Of course, may the odds be ever in your favor. Before we can get to the meat and potatoes of why we are here, we have a video for your viewing pleasure.”

The dry tone of the man caused an amount of tension to slide into Wade’s spine. He watched the man, trying to figure out how serious he was about this. He paid no attention to a video that droned on about a war and the creation of the hunger games. He didn’t care why they were created, all he wanted to do was get this day over with so he could go home. The video didn’t last long and the man clapped off beat when it ended and came up to the mic.

“Now that we have that _lovely_ piece of media over with, it comes down to the names. As tradition dictates, ladies first…” The man stepped away from the mic to walk in front of a bowl that was filled with pieces of paper. He looked down at the names without pulling one for a time before tilting his head away as he reached in. He pulled a name out and returned to his spot back in front of the mic. He read over the name before calling it. Wade’s eyes traveled to the small circle that formed around a girl who couldn’t be older than 15. Tears were already starting to well up in her eyes. She didn’t move until a peacekeeper came and nudged her to move. She joined the man on the stage, but Wade didn’t listen because all he could hear was the sound of crying surrounding him.

“And now, the gentlemen…” The man repeated the same process of standing in front of a bowl, hesitating to pull a name before finally doing so. He returned to the mic and read over the name, “Wade Wilson.”

Wade’s world stopped as he felt a circle formed around him. He couldn’t breath as his wide eyes stared up at the screen, where he saw his own face. His body began to shudder and shake, while his body moved on its own accord. He walked into the aisle, staring up to the girl who was trying her best to stop the tears and the odd man giving him a strange look of remorse. Each step towards the stage felt like a step closer to his death. Eventually he stood next to the man on the stage, looking out onto the population of District 12, unable to find his mother or Al.

“District 12, your tributes have been chosen.” The man’s voice sounded even more dry close up. Still in shock, he let the mayor and whoever else was on stage usher him into the building before he found himself in a room with no windows. He wished there was one, maybe then he’d be able to jump out of it and run. He stood in the center of that room for a lengthy amount of time before the door finally opened. Rushing in was his mother and Al, both in various degrees of remorse.

Hailey leapt forward, pulling Wade into her body as she sobbed, “Wade!”

He could feel her body trembling. In that moment, Wade finally broke, letting tears slide down his face as he buried into her neck. He took in her floral soapy scent just in case this would be the last time he would have a chance to smell it. He clutched onto her body, joining her in her trembles until he felt her gasp for breath. He pushed away from her and looked at her, trying to wipe his own tears, “Mom, you have to calm down. You’ll pass out if you don’t breathe mom, please!”

Al shuffled forward, putting a hand on both Hailey and Wade, “Wade’s right Hailey, you’re not going to help him if you hyperventilate. They’ll take you away before you can say your goodbyes.”

Wade took a couple of deep breaths as he rubbed his own face to clear any stray tears. Wade let a breathy laugh out, “I guess this’ll prevent any talks, huh?”

Hailey’s expression shifted to remorse as she put her hands on his face. She tried to take in deep breaths, but coughing and wheezing started, “I’m so sorry sweetums. This is all my fault and now I can’t protect you. I can’t hide you away. We should have stayed in 13, at least then you wouldn’t be sent out to die.”

Al clicked her tongue and shushed Hailey, “Have more faith in your idiot son. He may not be all that bright, but the boy can survive.”

“Mom, you got us out of there. I’m sorry for blaming you. I was just so mad.” A knock on the door caused the trio to stop. Hailey’s sobs started again before Al grabbed Wade’s face with far too much accuracy for Wade’s liking.

“You listen to me Wade Wilson. You go to those games and you come back alive. You know how to survive and you’re a fighter. You play this smart and don’t trust anyone. Everyone has a game to play but not you. You just need to get out of there alive and get back home to your mother, no other option is acceptable.”

Wade’s eyes glanced across Al’s face and he nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but the door was opened and a peacekeeper came in and shuffled them out. Hailey tried to fight to get back to Wade, but a coughing fit started and that was enough to send her on her way. A few more visitors came to Wade, offering condolences and well wishes, but he didn’t listen.

It didn’t take long before he was escorted onto the train, their district disappearing in the evening light. Wade watched the cascade of colors disappear to the enclosing night. The landscape around the train quickly whips by thanks to the speed. Besides him, the girl was clutching at something, her fingers delicately wiping over it.

“What’s that?” Wade’s voice croaked out from disuse.

The girl flinched as her fingers clenched tightly around her prize. She stayed silent for a moment before looking up at Wade where he sat. He took in her small appearance, feeling sick to his stomach at their encroaching fate. She let out a shaky sigh before opening her hands to reveal a small locket. It had seen better days but there was still a shine to it that could only show how loved it was. The girl spoke softly, “M-my mother gave it to me… She said if I wear it in the games, I’ll have her strength.”

Wade’s stomach clenched as he felt a level of sorrow plunge into him. He leaned over and closed his hands around hers, giving them a squeeze. She followed his movements before looking up to see Wade give her a small smile. He nodded, “Then you take care of that locket.”

The pair fell into silence as Wade slid back into his chair. His gaze went back outside, watching darken shapes of trees and fields race by. He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he was being shaken awake. His eyes bolted open as he looked up at the face of the man who called his name. All shock faded into hatred as his wide eyes shifted to a glare, his nose scrunched and lip curled.

“Save that for the games bucko.” The man’s dry voice really started to get under Wade’s skin.

“Fuck off.”

The man scoffs before allowing himself to flop into a chair in front of a table that was covered in food. Wade watched the man intently before letting his eyes shift around them. He noticed the girl wasn’t there and couldn’t stop himself before he asked, “Where’d she go?”

“Who?” The man glanced over at Wade with a piece of bacon partially in his mouth. Wade just shot him a look before the man rolled his eyes, “She went with Nessa last night. Don’t ask me anymore cause I don’t know and don’t care.”

Wade clenched his hands into fists, thankful that the tears had healed up before storming over to the man and shoving him forward. He held the man’s head against his still partially full plate as he leaned over and growled in his head, “Of course, why would you care about some dirty kids who are just about to go die? Fuck any amount of kindness.”

A loud throat clearing brought Wade’s attention to a new visitor. A woman with black hair and a small streak of white framing the side of her face. She wore comfortable clothes and her arms were firmly crossed over her chest, displaying a fair amount of muscle from the loose cloth, “As much fun as I’d get a kick out of seeing Weasel getting his ass handed to him, don’t think that’ll help much.”

Wade kept his hand firmly against the man’s head as he glared at her, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Speakers are Capital property, you beat them up and you’ll get equally so.”

Wade snorted as he glared back down at the man, “Hardly a threat when I’m being sent to my death either way.”

“True… but they can bring that onto your family instead if that was the case. Someone would have to pay for harming property.” The woman’s tone shifted to disinterest and Wade shot a look back to her. She was leaning against a wall, picking at her nails. That piece of information was like a bucket of ice water being poured over his head. He let go of the man and took a step away.

The man rubbed at his face, proving to only smear butter and syrup into his hair. Wade bit back laughter as he watched the man glare at him, “Shut up you snot. Now I gotta go clean up and take care of this shit.”

“You could probably use it. I can only imagine how you got the name Weasel without being oily as fuck.”

Weasel flicked him off as he pushed passed the woman and disappeared into another train car. The woman didn’t hide her laughter as she came forward, holding her hand out, “I’m Vanessa, you can call me Nessa if you want.”

“Wade Wilson.” He took her hand and shook it firmly.

“Mm.. I’ve heard the rumors flying around about you in the District. Made a name for yourself with that loud mouth of yours.”

“Oh I can do plenty more with my mouth.” Wade smirked.

She just shook her head and laughed again, “I’m sure you could, but no thank you. I’d rather have a steady commitment of my age, baby.”

Wade responded with a shrug and let that conversation die. He looked at her for a moment before glancing back at the food. Vanessa gave him a nod of approval before Wade took to picking at the rich food around him. It was well into the day before the girl joined Wade in the main car. He felt a little bad not getting her name but he also knew that knowing it would only hurt in the end.

~*~

The remaining train ride was spent in a state of disbelief and prodding Vanessa for information. Wade kept a firm distance from his female counterpart, knowing that forming a bond would only harm things. Vanessa didn’t seem to like that approach and tried multiple times to pull Wade into a conversation, but Wade was stubborn. By the time they had gotten to the Capital, Vanessa had given up. She had given Wade a brief rundown on how things would go, though she seemed endlessly curious about why he didn’t know any of that information. He played it off that he wasn’t all that smart to keep up with trivial things when his family was starving; that seemed to buy him sympathy and a stop to the questions.

The first thing Wade saw when they arrived at the tribute’s train stop was the elitism and the sheer amount of waste. He kept having to consciously stop himself from sneering at the people who were hoarding around to get a glimpse at District 12’s tributes. Vanessa and Weasel pushed them through and led them straight to the cleaners. The amounts of powder that was blasted in Wade’s face had him see white until he coughed up clouds of dust. He hated every second of it until he discovered the scrubbing. The pair of cleaners rubbed him until his skin was red enough to bleed. He kept wincing and pulling away but his struggle only made it worse.

After what felt like an eternity, Wade was put into a loose pair of white shorts and told to lay still on a frigid metal slate. Surprisingly Wade stayed there when two extravagantly dressed individuals came in and started picking at him. They plucked eyebrows, trimmed hair and slapped on makeup to hide his dark shadows. They looked over him before nodding and leaving. Then a new individual came in, strangely covered in dark clothes, a good majority of their body wrapped up tightly with only their eyes visible.

“So you are my subject.” The voice was strangely monotoned, but Wade didn’t respond. He sat up on the slate and looked at them, unsure how to respond. The figure pushes forward into Wade’s space, taking in his appearance and forcefully twisting his head so they could get different angles, “Mmm… Good, this I can work with.”

Wade pulled his head out of their grip forcefully, “What the fuck are you going on about?”

“I am to be your designer, the one who will make all the districts fall in love with you.” The figure paused as Wade watched their eyes narrow for a moment, “But I have no desire for that. I will make the districts fear you instead.”

“Don’t think that’ll get me any favors.” Wade snorted, pushing himself away.

The figure let him walk away before chuckling, “Perhaps but it would prove an image and that is something I believe you are far more worried about than you are willing to let on.”

Wade glares back at them, “Fuck off.”

“Believe what you want and say what you will but you are mine.” They strode forward, looking down their covered nose at Wade before reaching out and gripping his chin firmly. Wade tried to pull his face away but clawed nails dig into his flesh as the figure leaned forward, pushing into Wade’s space. A waft of lilies and cinnamon filled Wade’s nose as he looked into the individual’s completely white eyes, “We must get you dressed and ready.”

The individual’s grip loosens enough that Wade is able to pull away from them. He rubbed at his face as the figure brushes passed him. They glance behind them and look at Wade, “Come, we must be timely.”

Wade watches the figure walk ahead of him. A part of him wanted to defy this person but a larger part was strangely enamored and terrified of them. He slowly followed behind, keeping a healthy distance away from them. They travel in silence through the tall building until they reach a closed room that held a single outfit and a mirror. Wade stood awkwardly but the figure took the outfit off the hanger and pushed it into Wade’s hands, “Dress. I will give you a moment to put this on.”

Once Wade was left alone, he looked down at the darkened fabric. He set the clothes down before stripping out of the shorts and slid into the layered clothes. He dusts himself off just as the figure walked back in. He isn’t able to react before he is pushed downwards onto a stool. He fidgeted every now and again but was quickly disciplined by the figure as they continued to work. Every so often, Wade coughed when his face was powdered and after what felt like an eternity, the figure stepped away. Wade stood up, waving at the powder dust in the air.

Wade stepped in front of the mirror, looking over himself. It took a moment to recognize who was staring back at him in the mirror. Black eyeshadow was liberally put over his eyes, it both made his blue eyes pop as well as make his eyes look incredibly sunken in. Some of the eye shadow was smudged down onto his cheeks as though someone had attempted to claw at his eyes. His blonde hair had been dusted with black ‘soot’. The outfit itself looked similar to the everyday outfits of the miners back in 12 except it was black. It didn’t look like anything special until the individual came up behind him and placed a heavy fabric over his shoulder.

He moved and noticed the fabric smoking before he turned his head and noticed small flames embedded in the fabric. The flames rested on his shoulders while the cloak billowed out into thick black smoke. Wade glanced down to see the edges of the cloak disappeared into the smoke, yet it didn’t fill the room or give off an odor.

Wade put a hand against his cheek as he looked at himself, unsure how to make out his shifted appearance, “Who are you?”

The figure merely laughs as they come up behind him. They place a clawed hand on Wade’s shoulder, “You may know me as Death.”

Wade opened his mouth to respond but he wasn't able to respond before he was pushed out of the room and towards a gaudy golden chariot. He is pushed onto the chariot and for the first time in days, he looks down to see the girl from District 12. She is dressed similarly to him but her innocent face pulls away from the darkness of her makeup. She tilts her head to look up at him with wide eyes, trembling as she reaches out and grips his hand. Wade offers a small smile before the loud ring of trumpets and drums echo throughout the small shelter. Death appears next to Wade, pulling his attention towards them, “You will go last as you are from District 12. You must wave but do so sparingly and do not smile.”

Wade nodded, “Don’t have much to smile about.” Wade could feel the girl’s trembling in his hand as he gives her a reassuring squeeze. Death seemed pleased with this as they incline their head and stepped away. Their chariot is pulled away and put into a line. The apprehension of waiting was growing too much before the chariots ahead of them pulled ahead. They remained where they were for a while until the horses lurched forward and they were moving.

The first thing that Wade noticed was the overwhelming roaring that the massive crowd was letting loose with each of the tributes. As they pulled ahead, Wade expected the sun’s light to blind them but they were merely greeted with a hint of the sun setting, giving away to the darkness of the night sky. The girl’s shaking grew worse as they were pulled from the safety of their covered shelter. Wade glanced down at her, “Think of your mother and we will get through this.”

The girl looked up at him, nodding and steeling herself as they pulled through the long roadway. The flecks of smoke and dust billowed behind them as if they were an omen following the other districts. He could hear the cheers and gasps when people saw them but he only waved briefly and remained stoic. As the chariots gathered into a half circle, a voice rang out, “Welcome to the start of our 44th Hunger Games.”

Wade looked up to a larger than life screen that showed the face of a man with slicked back hair but the focus was the coldness that sat in his eyes. He scowled as he listened to the man speak.

“We welcome you tributes and we wish you a happy Hunger Games.” The man gave a smile that seemed so fakery put on that Wade was surprised to hear the crowd cheer louder. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

The cheers grew as their chariot lurched forward and followed the others into a darkened tunnel. The roar from behind them dulled the further they moved until they were within another enclosed shelter. Death stood with Vanessa and Weasel along with another woman who seemed busy talking with Death. The chariot came to a stop and Wade and the girl quickly joined the faces that they knew. Weasel offered a sporadic clap as they approached, “Well look at that, it would seem that black lung has become fashionable again.”

Vanessa causally shoved her shoulder into Weasel’s chest before stepping forward, “You both looked stunning. I’m sure you are hungry and tired, let’s get you to your suite.”

Wade tuned out their journey to an elevator that took them to the top and deposited them within a lavishly decorated apartment that looked out onto the wealth of the Capital. Dinner went by in a blur and before long Wade found himself collapsing into a bed, drifting off to sleep.

~*~

Training had become the daily regular. The facility that housed the tributes was filled to the brim with different stations that offered multiple skills to be tested and honed. Wade purposely stayed away from many of the fighting or weaponry skills as he came up with the idea of appearing weaker than he was. He knew he had already lost weight when he had left District 13 and the food shortage in 12 hadn’t helped him gain anything back. Days of rich and flavorful food was almost too much for his stomach to handle, but he ate what he could.

Training and focusing on tasks felt routine in Wade’s life and he could almost forget that he was being sent to die. Wade watched carefully as tributes formed alliances while others kept far away from each other. He made sure to observe each one, finding any faults and strengths. Unfortunately for Wade, he noticed many faults in his co-tribute. A sickening pit in his stomach grew with each one he found and he grew with more hatred for whoever found enjoyment out of this sickening display. She was too sweet but thankfully not trusting. She followed Wade to each station until he pushed her to train in weaponry. He would offer small pieces of advice when others weren’t watching or when they had finished for the day.

He knew he was doing exactly what he told himself not to do, but he couldn’t help take a shine to her. He wanted to give her as much of a fighting chance as possible. Training began and ended quickly, before he knew it, he was sitting in a room waiting to be judged by the gamemaker to be given a number on a scale of survival. The girl had gone before him and he sat alone, staring at the dark walls around him. Wade debated whether he should truly try to prove himself or if he should do what Al told him and stay low. A dull voice came over the speaker and called his name. He stood and walked through the doors, preparing himself for judgement. 

He glanced over to the peacekeeper who stood by the door. They glanced at him before pushing open the doors, letting him walk through. The training room was empty except for a rack of various weapons. Sitting above the room was a row of men, each in a different style of suit. When Wade came closer, he stopped and the gamemaker stood, “You will have 10 minutes to show us what you can do. This time begins now.”

The gamemaker stayed near the edge of their higher room, while Wade glanced over to the weapons. His eyes quickly went over each one as his mind catalogued weaknesses and strengths. He pulls loose a pole arm, testing its weight before flinging it at the target ahead. It slides through the target, clicking against the wall that was far too close. A cocky smirk appears on Wade's face when he grabs two daggers, tossing them into the air like a coin. He tosses them just the same, letting them land within the target's head. He clicked his tongue out of personal annoyance of not hitting exactly where he wanted them.

He reached over, grabbing a sword. He tested the weight, before finding a comfortable grip and launching himself at the target. He knew that this person would have already been dead, far beyond it in fact, but he needed to prove his skills in combat. It felt like he was back in 13, training to win approval to move to the next rank. He plunged the sword through the 'heart' before stepping away.

“Impressive...” The gamemaker's voice pulled Wade out of his headspace as he glanced up to see a variety of expressions on the mens' faces. Wade let go of the weapon, stepping backwards enough to clearly see them without tilting his head uncomfortably. He bowed before turning and leaving without saying a word.

~*~

If the judging wasn’t hard enough, a rift formed between the girl and Wade. She didn’t want anymore of his advice and would take to avoid him all together. He couldn’t really blame her. Vanessa told him that this commonly happens and that he needs to focus on himself and staying alive. Death was no help as they just continued to be an enigma of a person. Wade stood in front of a mirror once more while Death straightened out a pitch black suit with crimson lining and shirt. They had put some more of the dusting makeup on his face that caused him to cough. On the screen ahead of him was a strangely simply dressed man, Wade had been barely listening to him interviewing each tribute. Weasel and the two assistants watched the screen captivated, while Vanessa and Death focused on Wade.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before in your life, but you need to watch what you say. If you fuck this up, then it’s entirely possible that you’ll get no help. Which means you’ll die quicker.” Vanessa stood in front of the mirror, arms crossed, staring at Wade.

Wade coughed and waved his hand in front of his face to try and dispel the powder, “Uh-huh, right.”

Vanessa moved forward, grabbing Wade by the wrists, glaring at him as she snapped, “Wade, this is fucking serious! I can’t help you if you’re so determined to mind yourself. I’m here to help and give advice and this whole time you’ve been nothing but an ass.”

With a surprising amount of strength, Wade ripped his hands away from her, “Listen, I’ve done everything everyone has ever told me and it’s fucked me over every single time. So pardon me if I don’t give a flying fuck. If I’m supposed to die in these fucking games, then I’m going to die and there’s nothing you can do about it. So why don’t you just leave me alone?”

Death stopped and watched Vanessa’s face grow red before she stormed out of the room. Death looked up at Wade, shaking their head, “You are but a child. Do not forget that others have been where you stand.”

“Oh shut up.” Wade growls out, his eyes going back to the man doing interviews.

Shortly after, Wade was ushered out into the hallway and stood by himself. A screen hung ahead of him that showed the girl from 12. They had dressed her up to appear more sweet but with a heavy amount of makeup covering up any imperfections. The noise of the interview dulled as Wade mindlessly watched. A hand came to rest on his shoulder as he looked up to see a stagehand gesture toward the stage. As he moved closer, the girl hurried by him and disappeared towards the dressing rooms. He stood to the side and waited for his entrance.

“Now folks, I’m sure you’re just as excited as I am; though I know most of you are. Please help me welcome what people are calling ‘The Encroaching Smoke of Death’, Wade Wilson!”

Wade stepped forward to a roar from the audience. It was jarring but he slapped a smug smile on his face before shaking hands with the man. They both sat and waited while the crowd calmed. The man turned to partially face Wade, “Now Wade, be honest with me. How did that outfit work?”

Wade offered a fake chuckle, one that he heard from many of the other tributes, “I’ll be honest but I don’t know if you’ll like the answer. I’m afraid that I just don’t know.”

The crowd sighed as though a secret was kept from them, but the man easily worked with that, “Well I can certainly understand. From what I hear one of our legendary designers has come out of retirement just for you.”

The crowd ate that up, quickly covering any disappointment with excited gasps. Wade looked shocked for a moment but the man pushed though, “If the rumors are correct, the Capital’s own Lady Death has become your designer, would that be correct?”

Wade simply nodded, “That would be them.”

The man and the crowd cheered and many of them were still gasping. A slow rumble came from the crowd as people started to lowly talk. The man offered a smile to the crowd before turning back to Wade, “But I don’t want to go into designers, we would be here all night.” He paused for the crowd to laugh, “I do want to talk about home for you Wade.”

Wade’s hand tensed for a moment, for a split second worrying that his secret was out, but the man continued seemingly without noticing his movement, “Do you have anyone at home rooting for you?

Wade’s smile shifted to real as he thought back to his mom and Al,”Yeah, my mom and grams.”

There were a few coos from the crowd as Wade looked over at the man, “In fact my grams gave me an earful before I left District 12.”

“Ooh? What did she tell you?” The man looked out to the audience to get them to cheer, which they willingly did.

“She told me to be smart and to come back alive. She told me that I had no other options.” Wade chuckled.

“I am sure you will. Let’s hear it for Wade from District 12!” The man stood, bringing Wade up with him as the crowd cheered. Wade took a bow before exiting the stage, meeting with Weasel and a disgruntled Vanessa. Weasel slapped a hand against his shoulder, “So you’re not just a pretty face, look at that, you have character depth to you.”

“Shut up Weasel.” Vanessa and Wade snapped. Weasel put his hands up as he took a step back. Vanessa glared at Wade, “I suppose you did alright but you’re an asshole.”

Wade shrugged. That wasn’t something new to him. They stood in the hallway for a moment before returning to the suite. Wade laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling while the world outside buzzed and partied.

~*~

Staring at the dying light in his arm as the tracker settled under his skin helped keep his mind off of the glowing platform ahead of him. The room he stood in was cold and concrete, the only things within the room were the suit he was wearing and Death themselves. Wade’s designer has been strangely quiet as they helped Wade into a thermal suit that offered the barest of protection.

“Wade.” Death’s voice was closer than he thought, causing him to flinch before looking at them. Death remained emotionless, “Be smart, be fast and be strong.”

Wade nodded, “Why are you doing this?”

Death’s response was to put hands on both sides of his cheeks, “You have had a hard life Wade Wilson, travel has toughened you and you still have many trials ahead of you. I wish to only soften one burden because you are mine.”

Wade opened his mouth to respond but one of Death’s hands shifted over his mouth and they shushed him, “Do not forget who you are within the arena. Do not forget what holds you.”

Death slipped away when a loud beep indicated that the games would be starting soon. Wade looked back at the platform, “Step on the platform. Accept this step in your journey Wade Wilson of District 13.”

Wade had stepped onto the platform, only to have a shield form around him. He whipped around to stare at Death. They put a finger in front of their covered mouth, watching as the platform lifted Wade up through a tube. He reeled from the shock of what Death said, but couldn’t dwell long as light blinded Wade temporarily. He found himself in the middle of a thicket where a shelter stood in front of him; weapons, backpacks and many other survival necessities laid pouring out the two openings. A voice chimed overhead of a welcome followed by a countdown. Wade glanced around him to see the other tributes, but Wade’s gaze was already looking around to take in the environment. It was a thick, dense forest that had rocks poking out, breaking up the brush of the trees. Wade looked behind him to see a few spare backpacks around the exterior of the shelter. The droning of the voice continued to countdown and Wade took a few deep breaths, readying himself just as the voice let out, “One… Happy Hunger Games.”

Wade glanced at the shelter, running towards it only to veer off to the side, lunging at a backpack. He rolled to grab it, only to run into another tribute. Wade didn’t know who or where they were from but they looked at him with wide eyes filled with fear. He looked stunned at them but he heard a wet thud and watched the tribute fall to the grass. He glanced behind him to see another tribute running towards him. ‘ _Not today, you fucker_.’ Wade thought as he brought the backpack close to him and raced off into the thick underbrush of the forest.

Wade kept running until he couldn’t hear the cries of pain and the sounds of bodies falling. He stumbled and landed on the ground, gripping the bag, panting out. He stared down at the dead brush beneath his hands, trying to suck in any amount of air. Loud cannon fire echoed through the air as Wade slammed himself to the ground, landing painfully on the backpack. The cannon fire sounded multiple more times before coming to an end. Wade looked around desperately to see if anyone was nearby, unsure what the cannons meant. He remained still for a time until his shallow breathing shifted to deep breaths and he could not hear anyone around him. He rolled and pushed himself against a tree trunk to provide a small amount of shelter as he went looking through the backpack. An empty water sack, rope, a knife and a fabric that Wade could only guess was for rain protection. He let his head hit the rough bark as he looked up at the thick pine needles above him.

“Alright think…” He quietly muttered to himself, “You need water and food. No fire, that will give away your spot, can be used for tricks.”

He waited a while longer before pushing himself up, following the trees until he found a small babbling stream to fill his watersack. Wade travelled in the tree, being careful of noise and anyone else. Before long the light shifted in the sky, Wade climbed up a tree, tying himself down and looking out to the valley that he had left. The treeline curved downwards to form a jagged ‘v’ shape while the other side was covered in rocks and trees. Through the moon’s light, Wade could see a few billows of smoke in different directions. But his attention was dragged away by a bright projection in the sky, showing different tribute’s faces and which district they came from. The project was halted for a moment by a cannon and a new face was added. Wade counted 13 tributes, over half already dead. A sick pit in his stomach grew as he watched for the girl’s face from 12 and breathed out a sigh of relief that she wasn’t there. Resting his head against the tree trunk, he let himself fall asleep knowing that he was going to need all his strength to get through this alive.

Days passed with little excitement, Wade came across a few other tributes but passed them with little affair. Most of them ran away from him and into other tributes who weren’t as nice. At first the nights passed with one or two more tributes dead until Wade counted that 8 were still alive. He knew that District 1 and 2 were still alive and nearly ran into them, but he was slippery enough to use the surroundings to camouflage himself. His stomach twisted each time he heard them talk about killing someone, especially when he knew some of them were far too young to be here.

As days passed into weeks, Wade felt a level of tension filled the forest that unsettled himself. He was hanging on by foraging for food, not daring to start a fire. He was picking around a bush, pulling a few berries as a loud scream broke through the trees. He stood up, his hand going for the knife at his hip. The scream was far closer than he would like and it was followed by a disgusting laugh. Against Wade’s own instincts, he snuck closer to find a clearing where he saw something that made the blood in Wade’s veins freeze.

Stumbling through the trees, holding onto her side was the girl from District 12 that Wade could see blood oozing from a large gash. On instinct, Wade took a step towards her to try and help but a cruel laugh broke through her pained gasps, “Why are you running little one? Come on back.”

Wade slid to a tree trunk, leaning backwards into the shadows as he gripped his knife. He watched as a male tribute stalked towards the girl wielding a spear. The tribute clicked the metal spearhead against the tree trunks as the girl ran ahead, her breathing growing heavier until she grunted as she hit the ground.

“Please.” She whimpered as she tried to crawl away while the male tribute gained ground. Wade watched the tribute slowly walk over to her with a sickening grin on his face. Wade took that time to sneak closer until the iron smell of blood filled his nose. The tribute pulled closer and smirked down at her, “You shouldn’t have run, you just made this so much worse for yourself.”

The girl lets out a shaky sob as she clutches her side, her free hand gripping at something tightly. Wade growled as he launched himself at the tribute, tackling them down and shoving the knife firmly into his chest. The tribute let out a shriek followed by a grunt before falling silent. Wade huffed a couple of breaths as he stood over the fallen body. The forest around them fell silent for a time before a cannon broke. The girl let her sobs grow in sound as she came down from the near death experience.

Wade turned his head, wiping the blood on his pants, “What happened?”

“I… got hungry.” She spoke between sobs. Her voice was soft and breathless.

“So you stole from him?” Wade tone sounded accusatory. The girl whimpered as a reply. He clicked his tongue as he made his way towards her, “If you are going to steal, do it from someone too blind to see. I thought the Seam taught you better.”

Hiccups filtered through her sobs, as her hands clenched tighter around their respective spots. Wade knocked her hand away from her side and found a disheartening site. The tribute had side swiped her at an angle due to the height difference, carving a gaping wound across her side. From the amount of blood that was already pouring onto the forest floor, Wade knew what this meant. He felt something clench his heart as he swallowed down the urge to scream. He looked up to see her wiping at her puffy face with blood stained hands, leaving streaks of red.

“I’m sorry…” She mumbled, barely loud enough for Wade to hear.

He shook his head, “Nothing to be sorry about. You were hungry, maybe a little stupid but hunger does that.”

“Wade, it hurts.” She whines as she tried to move her hand back to the wound, but Wade stopped her. He took her hand in his and squeezed.

“I know, but it’ll be okay soon. It’ll heal up and then you’ll be right as rain.” Wade tried to keep the tremble in his voice as his eyes started to water.

“Okay…” She held onto his hand.

“Hey, why don’t you tell me about your mom? You haven’t told me much and I would love to hear about her.” Wade used a free hand to rub at his face, stopping a few tears from running down his cheek.

The girl whimpered as she closed her eyes, “I miss her. She… She’s so strong. Did you know that she once punched a man for whistling at her?”

Wade’s body started to shake as he heard the girl’s voice grew softer, tears freely streaming down his face, “Oh yeah? I bet that taught him?”

The girl let out a breathless giggle, giving Wade a slow nod. The pair fell silent as Wade took in shaky, shallow breaths to try and regain some amount of composure. Ever so often the silence was broken by a sniff before the girl opened her eyes with tears slipping by as she looked at Wade. She let go of his hand, slipping it free and moving both hands to her necklace, “Wade?”

“Y..yeah?” Wade tried to wipe at his eyes in vain.

“Can you make sure… my mom gets her necklace back?” The girl’s voice was so soft that it took all of Wade’s focus to hear her. He nodded, not trusting his voice. She gave him a small smile as she moved her hands from her locket, “I’ll be okay Wade…”

The forest grew silent as two sounds of breathing slowed to only one. Wade reached out, grabbing her hands and squeezing them, “Hey. Hey!”

When no response was made, Wade tilted his head back to look through the pin-needled sky, finally letting a sob rake through him. His body shook as he cried out in rage and pain for a life too young to have been lost. The cannon fire completely lost to his ears as he sobbed, in that moment, something broke in Wade but he wasn’t quite sure what. After angry crying for a while, Wade leaned forward, grabbing the locket and holding it gently in his hands. He looked down at the girl’s body, “I promise, your mother will get this necklace back.”

That night was hard, seeing the portrait of the girl’s face flash against the night sky, but he had more determination to get out of this arena in one piece. He had something else pushing him. The weeks drifted closer to months and Wade couldn’t believe that any of them had survived so long. He risked fires to have some meat with his foraging, knowing that something with more substance was required. He was always careful to destroy the fire and not stay anywhere nearby as not to pull any of the surviving 5 tributes towards him. Wade knew if it came down to survival, he’d win. He was built to survive.

~*~

Late one night, tied to a tree and trying to get some semblance of sleep, a distant roar woke him. Pulled to consciousness, the roar was only dwarfed by the creaking of trees falling. Wade looked around him and saw blazing orange light rapidly coast towards him. He quickly untied the rope, swinging his pack onto his back and climbed down the tree. The moment his feet hit the ground, the heat from the flames licked up at his face. He grunted, using his arms to shield himself as he blindly turned away from heat and light. Turning away, darting blind for a moment with the fire following close behind. Everything about this fire was abnormal but Wade couldn’t spare a moment to think about that. All that mattered was the fire was clearly real and he needed to get away from it.

Labored from lack of proper nutrition and improper sleep, Wade was growing winded and he couldn’t get away fast enough. The roar of the fire, eating away at the trees and thick underbrush was enough to drown out a scream and cannon fire that followed after. He darted between trees that seconds later exploded into kindling, Wade tried to look for a way out. Desperately looking from side to side, he bolted to the right where he knew a river was, knowing that it would provide some kind of shelter. What he didn’t count on was the fire being there before he had a chance.

Embers and flame licked at his body when he carelessly took a step towards the gurgling water. A scream of agony tore through his throat as the fire quickly enveloped his right side, eating away at his clothes and backpack. Instinctively he turned, racing towards the water, feeling the heat and pain surge through his body. The sickening smell of cooking meat and what little fat hung on his body filled his nose. What was worse was the smell of burning hair as the flame hugged his body. Wade jerked forward and flung himself into the rushing water before him. The river’s current rapidly coating his body in icy water that caused him to tense and seize up. Submerged and being carried away by the current, Wade opened his eyes to watch pieces of sand float by, oranges and reds lit up the water as dark flecks fell into the water. Wade stayed where he was, trying to get a footing on a rock before lifting himself out of the water, intaking a gulp of air. He watched the fire rage, feeding on the tree as ash started to run from the sky.

The river carried him away, Wade still finding difficulty breathing as he watched the flame fade from the trees until they disappeared altogether. As the current pushed him by, he watched as the only evidence that there had even been a fire was the ash that was raining down. If he had more control over his voice, he would be laughing hysterically but swallowing ash and screaming was not a good mixture.

Wade wasn’t sure how long he drifted away, but when the current slowed enough for him to drag his body out. He crawled into a nearby cave, the cold mud and ash clung to his body as he collapsed onto the cold floor.

The great thing about passing out is you never know how much time has passed and it’s almost blissful in ignorance of the world. Then his body awoke, an unbearable heat pulsed beneath Wade’s skin. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten to this place but he remembered the fire that the sick bastards had started. There was a ringing in his ears as the rest of him woke up but it took a moment to register that it wasn’t a ringing but more of a chime.

Instantly, Wade was alert and his whole body tensed that only caused a pained gasp to escape. He wanted to move, but half of his body surged to scream at him for trying while the other half was sore from being immobile for what he could only guess was a while. He remained on the ground, letting out a huff of pained laughter, “If you’re coming to kill me, just get it over with.”

The only response he got was the chime and the faint howling of wind against the cave entrance. He remained there, wondering what sick game the other tributes were trying to play. The chime continued until the noise began to grate on him enough to force movement. His body screamed in pain but he managed to stumble outside. The sun blazed overhead causing Wade to shield his eyes but not before catching a glimpse of metal glimmer next to him. A capsule laid on the ground, a piece of fabric hung close from what he could only assume was a parachute.

He reached out, grasping the object and only then did he notice the disgusting reds of his skin. Blisters formed over his hand and up his arm, when he looked down he noticed part of his suit had been eaten away, exposing blisters and burns running up his leg and onto his torso. It followed a pattern as though someone had painted fire onto his body. Dropping the capsule, Wade raced to the water and looked at his own reflection. The burns had enveloped his neck completely coming up to his chin and pulled along the back of his head and ear. Wade felt to the wet, chilled rock, ignoring the surge of pain and a sickening pop as he continued to look at himself.

Wade wasn’t sure how long he knelt by the side of the river, but he turned back to the capsule. He shuffled to it and popped it openly easily. Inside was a tin and a small piece of paper that read ‘ _That was too close, ease the burn with this. - V_ ’. Letting the paper fall from his hand, he tore open the tin’s lid and was greeted with a mint that caused him to gag. His hand shook as he scooped generous helpings of the salve onto as many exposed parts of his skin as possible until he was trying to get the last bits from the metal.

Now emptied, Wade tossed the tin to the side and let the coolness of the salve ease him for a moment. Too tired from pain and exertion, Wade slunk into the cave and fell asleep propped against the cold, rock walls.

Wade spent the next few days going in and out of consciousness, only having moments of lucidity to find food and to make sure that he had his pack with him. Most of the bag was ruined but Wade ripped it apart until he found the locket. He held it tightly in his hand before wrapping it around his wrist. He clutched it close to his chest, muttering soft reassurances. The salve had done wonders but Wade needed a miracle. The blisters were long gone but his body held angry, red burn scars that refused to leave.

During one of his moments of consciousness, Wade had escaped the cave to scavenge for food when a chime rang out in the air. His eyes went upwards as he saw another capsule float downwards towards him. He stumbled towards it, hands out held until it landed safely in his arms. He popped it open, hoping more salve had been sent but was greeted with a bracelet and another piece of paper. ‘ _Put this on and never take it off. - Gamemaker_ ’. He glanced between the bracelet and the paper for a while before slipping it over his scarred hand. A glowing red dot flashed alive and Wade watched as the scars that were once on his hand were gone, replaced with an unscarred version.

Shocked, Wade dropped everything and began grasping at his hand. He could feel the scars but couldn’t see them. His feet took him towards the river where he hunched over to see the reflection of an unscarred Wade looking back at him. A hysterical giggle bubbled out his throat as he brought his hand down to slap at the water. Tears started to roll down his cheeks as his laughter turned to a scream to the sky.

~*~

Getting into a routine of survival proved difficult in the coming days, Wade started getting little sleep due to whispered noises nearby. They started off quiet enough but with each passing day grew louder and words began to form. Wade tried to brush them off with a wave of his hand but found that the whispers were persistent.

[Useless.]

{Worthless.}

[You let her die you know that.]

{You didn’t even learn her name! Yet you thought you could bring comfort to her in her death?}

[How are you going to face her mother? You think that she’s just going to accept that locket when her daughter is dead? Pathetic.]

Often times, Wade kept himself buried away with his hands covering his ears, muttering to himself as a response to the voices that only he could hear. He hated that they made sense but he hated more than anything when they kept growing in volume. It sounded like they were people standing right next to him talking.

{Do you think he’ll die here?}

[It would save everyone from having to see his miserable face again.]

{He is ugly as sin now.}

[They had to give him a pretty little bracelet to cover up what an ugly waste of space he is now.]

Wade whimpered, digging his fingers into the side of his head. It was only when a chill grew in the cave that he realized how long he had been still in the cave. The voices had quieted for the moment as the chirps of crickets filled his ears. He crawled free from his cave as he looked up to the sky, watching the stars.

[Look at him, having a peaceful vacation while so many kids have died]

{Isn’t that sweet? He’s too stupid to realize what’s going on}

Wade gritted his teeth, “Shut up.”

{Oh look at that! He speaks.}

[I’m shocked that he’s smart enough for two words]

{And he wants us to shut up? Tsk tsk, he has no manners.}

[What can you expect from trash? Listen, you want us to be quiet, it comes with a price]

{Oooh yes, a warm and gooey price}

[Filled with screams and pleas]

“What the fuck do you want?” Wade growled, his hand clenched into fists.

{I want blood}

[I want pain]

“No.” Wade let out with a gasp.

{You’ve killed before.}

[You killed that boy.]

{We want more.}

[We demand more.]

{You will give us more.}

“...”

[That girl died because of others. You can kill the others.]

{Kill the rest. Make them cry out like she did}

[Make them suffer and fear you.]

{Make them wish they had never been born}

Wade’s voice came out with a soft desperation, “Stop…”

[You’re not worth anything else. Give us what we want.]

{We can take it if you don’t.}

[I hear insanity is the new fad]

{I do love following fashion, do you think ugly is right next to it?}

The voices chattered away in Wade’s mind as he stared out vacantly in the forest. The world around him felt quiet, almost eerily so as if everything around him knew what he was about to do. A soft breath stole its way out as he quietly muttered, “I could go home.”

[Oh yes, you can go home to your dying mother and to a district that’s not your own.]

{And we can enjoy the warm, gooey feeling of blood. You can’t tell us if you don’t want it.}

[So much rage and desire, why not finally act on it?]

{Make them pay like you wanted to do dear old dad}

A twisted smirk grew on his face as he continued to stare outwards, “They’re all just cattle anyway.”

{Now you’re getting it!}

[I think it’s the two teams of privileged fucks anyways. I bet they asked to be here]

{Make them regret their decision.}

[Make them scream]

{Make them beg}

“I’ll make them wish they had never been born.” Wade’s voice found new strength as he gravelly spoke to no one. Wade stood, his hand finding his knife as he brought it free from its home on his belt. His eyes leave the forest as he looks down at the glint that came off the metal of it. A feral smirk grew across his face as he gripped the knife firmly. It was time to go hunting. He moved silently through the forest, leaving behind what little supplies he had left. The girl's necklace wrapped firmly around his wrist next to the bracelet. He kept direction by glancing up to the sky to see where the stars were. He stopped briefly to gain any knowledge of where they might be hiding. He climbed up into a tree when he grew tired of getting nowhere.

[Find them]

{Kill them}

The voices in his head echoed a mantra as he came to a sturdy branch to look around the arena. The valley came to a center point where smoke lazily billowed out. Wade's smirk grew as he climbed down, “I found them.”

{Kill them}

He ignored the snags and cuts from the thick pines as he ran by them. Running downhill used little energy for him, but as he grew closer, he slowed his pace. He was careful not to let the prey know that he was close. He lowered himself to the ground, leaning against a distant tree to watch them below. It appeared like one was sleeping, back to the fire. Another sitting by the fire, poking it ever so often to keep it going. Two others were cuddled close; it looked like they were talking but blood was pounding in Wade's ears. He remained still watching for any change in movement as he thought over his strategy.

[The two huddled will be hard. Separate them]

{Sleeping will be easy. Kill them last. Make them wake up to see what you have done before killing them}

[The one on guard will be the first kill. Make them scream]

{That will separate the two. Kill one and stalk the other}

[Then wake the sleeping one]

“Yes...” Wade rumbles to himself. He needed to get closer first. He moved with a predatory grace, doing his best to hide his bulk behind trees and within low hanging pines. He makes sure to keep the four within his eye line at all times. When he's close enough to see them clearly, he can tell who each of them is and there's a brief moment of hesitation.

[Slice their throat]

{Go home to your dying mother}

[We demand blood]

His head jerks to the side as if to shake away a sound in his ear. The two huddled together are talking in hushed tones but he can make out the words of previous tributes. He sneers, wondering if they realize that they won't be leaving the arena to tell their victories. He glances down for a rock, finding one of decent size and tossing it over his shoulder. The crashing of leaves and twigs snaps three heads in his direction. Shielded by the cover of night, he shuffles into the tree, crouching against the thick branch for whoever might come. As if the voices in his head predicted it, the one who was acting as a guard comes pushing through the trees. Wade watched them go towards the noise, tilting his head over his shoulder to see the two huddling watching him. He clenched his jaw, keeping an eye on them until they turned away. He watched them for a few seconds to make sure they didn't turn around again before he lowered himself to the ground. Wade's full attention rested on the tribute's back, he stalked forward while they searched aimlessly around for whatever made that sound.

Waiting for the perfect moment, Wade watched the tribute as they let out an annoyed shout. They kicked at the ground, sending forest litter into the air before turning to head back to their campsite. Wade leaned against a tree, waiting for them to walk by before he lunged at them. He threw them off balance as they both collided into the ground. Wade couldn't stop the groan from hitting the floor a little harder than he should have but he didn't have time to focus on his pain. He bared his teeth in a tight smile at the tribute trying to get to their feet.

“Ah ah. Don't go running away so soon.” His voice pitched loud from whispering and disuse as he tilts the knife blade against the tribute's throat, “We're just getting started.”

The tribute gulps as Wade pushed the blade firmly against their throat, “Now... Let's have some fun.”

The tribute opens their mouth and lets out a shout that quickly is covered by gurgling as Wade draws the blade against his throat. Blood splatters against Wade's ruined jacket as he lets them fall to the ground, watching them grasp at their neck to stop the bleeding. He watches with a tilted head as the light fades from the tribute's eyes before snapping up to the rest. He stared at them while cannon fire broke the still air.

[Kill them]

{Separate}

Twin shouts come out by the fire as two of the tributes come crashing through the woods. Wade ran further into the darkness as they grew close. He was going to play with them and have some fun. He could hear their breathless words as they came across their ally's body. He listened as they agreed to separate but check in every few minutes. Wade smirked as he looked around the tree to see them walking in opposite directions.

[Eenie meenie, minie moe]

Wade glanced between the two before stalking after the one on the left. Wade traveled ahead, climbing into a tree and laying wait for them to come close. The moment they were beneath him, he jumped down, landing heavily against the tribute. He towered over them, “Hello little one, it seemed you wandered just far enough for the wolf to find you.”

The tribute screamed, “RUN!”

Wade snarled as he stabbed his knife into the tribute's chest. He growled when he heard distant cracking behind him.

[Get them]

{Hunt them}

[Kill them]

With a forced grunt, Wade pulled free his bloodied knife. He left the body behind as cannon fire sounded in the air. He could hear the tribute scrambling as they raced through the forest. He held the blade firm as he raced after them. They nearly collided as they met on the tribute's way to the fire. Wade had tried to slam into them to knock them off balance but they were too fast for him. He snarled after them as they raced to the fire. He could hear the tribute's shaky intakes of breath as the forest around them grew brighter. The fire was close and if Wade wasn't fast enough, then he'd have to deal with two at once. He came to a stop, sliding with the leaves as he took aim. His eyes bounced around the tribute as they ran. He watched them stumble growing closer to the sleeping tribute before he flung his blade.

Holding his breath, he waited for the sickening thud of the knife embedding itself within the tribute's back. They fell to the ground with a scream of pain. Wade growled at himself with a deep set frown when he watched the tribute crawling to wake the other. He stormed forward as the tribute's shaky hand gripped the other. The sleeping one began to wake, pushing off the hand. They rolled over and opened their eyes to see Wade tugging the knife from the tribute's spine and plunge it into the back of their neck.

Another cannon sounded as Wade's striking blue eyes landed on the now awake tribute, “Did you sleep well?”

Wade's voice rumbled with the crackling of the fire next to them, “This would have been so much better if you were still asleep.”

They screamed as they tried to scramble away from him. He was sure that he was a sight to see, covering blood, half crazed from voices in his head and lack of proper nutrition. He clicked his tongue as he watched them run, “Always the hard way, why does no one accept what will happen?”

He watched the tribute stumble as they still tried to fully wake up. He stood up, tilting his head as they scrambled to get away.

[How pathetic]

{Kill the worm}

Wade stalked forward, the knife in his hand slick with blood as he reached down and grabbed the tribute by the hood on their jacket. They let out a jerked gulp as Wade slammed the knife into the side of their neck. He listened to their gurgled breath before they fell silent. He released the hood and let them fall to the ground with a thud. One more cannon rang out as a speaker clicked on, “Ladies and Gentlemen, this year's tribute from District 12. Wade Wilson.”

He tilted his head up to the sky that was rapidly shifting to daylight. He looked at the blue sky, watching an opening form and an aircraft lowering down to collect him. The individuals who come to gather him seem iffy about touching him but they herded him on. He lets out a hiss when they plunge a needle into his neck. His vision grew blurry as he collapsed into one of the seats.

He wasn't sure where he was, but he knew that if one more person prodded at him, he was going to kill them. The doctors seemed to understand that and had gotten to the point of strapping him to his bed. They muttered about the extensive scarring and lack of proper equipment to fix it. Wade did know that they had taken the bracelet that the gamemaker sent to him and he was forced to see his own scarred body. He wanted to believe that this was some kind of sick nightmare but every time a nurse or doctor poked at one of the scars, he knew it wasn't.

He was in the hospital for a few months while they tried different techniques to get rid of the scarring. They had been successful on some spots, easing the ridged skin to soften to a somewhat normal appearance. But overall, his body was a lost cause. They had gotten some of his hair to grow back but a large bald spot remained on the nape and moved into the crown of his head. Instead of tirelessly working on healing the rest, the doctors programmed a new bracelet for him. They talked about how it would age with his body and that his projection was tied to his body but he stopped listening. He knew what this meant. The Capitol didn't want Panem to see how ugly he was nor how their games truly affected the victors.

~*~

The train ride home felt like Wade’s death sentence. It was at this time that he wished at least the voices were keeping him company. Instead, he kept himself hidden in unused train cars away from Weasel’s and Vanessa’s prying. Wade would like to think that he’s keeping himself away from them to prep himself for returning to District 12, but even he could say that is a weak excuse. He was hiding, trying to stay away from the new responsibilities that were thrown at him. All Wade wanted to do was survive, which he did. He wasn’t a hero. He killed other kids.

[You enjoyed it.]

Wade’s hands found his head as he began to pull at what hair the doctors had gotten to grow back. He wasn’t listening when they told him that they were making a more permanent image inducer that would be adapted with him. The only thing that he heard was that the scarring was too intensive and he would live with the damage for the rest of his life.

The squeal of brakes broke through Wade’s internal screaming. His eyes snapped up to the window that revealed District 12’s station. The sick feeling of a mandatory celebration hung heavy in his stomach as he caught a glimpse of the banners. Wade remained where he was for a while before a knock sounded through his room.

“Wade, we’re back.” Vanessa’s voice muffled through the closed door, “You can’t hide in there forever. The train will have to leave eventually.”

Wade shuddered as he remained firmly seated on the bench seat away from the door and window. He could hear Vanessa sigh from behind the door, “I’m not going to force you out because I get it but you only have 5 more minutes before Weasel does.”

Vanessa’s footsteps disappear and he is left alone in silence for a while longer.

~*~

Walking out to cheers was not something Wade wanted, but it was still jarring to hear. He stood on the stage next to the mayor, Weasel and Vanessa. He wasn’t naive enough to see hope in any of the people’s eyes.

{You’re not of this district}

[A wolf among sheep]

{A liar}

The voices mocked him, causing him to flinch whenever he heard them. He tried to play it off and when the mayor tried to get Wade to speak, he merely shook his head and stated, “I just want to go home.”

They let him go while the district celebrated with what meager provisions offered by the Capital. Wade pushed through the crowd until a hand gripped his elbow firmly. He made to jerk free and snarl at whoever grabbed him but what met with Vanessa’s neutral face. She nodded her head away from the crowd. Wade pulls his arm free, but follows.

Their walk is mostly silent as the party behind them fades away. It’s predictably Vanessa who breaks the silence, “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but you’re not alone in this Wade.”

{Awww isn’t that cute}

[She thinks that she can help you.]

{Make her regret it}

Wade tenses his jaw as he remains perfectly silent. Vanessa takes his silence as something else and keeps talking, “Your family had been moved into Victor’s Row while you were doing your Capital tour. I’m just down the way so if you need anything just let me know.”

Trekking through District 12, Wade felt disconnected from it all. This wasn’t his home and yet everyone believed that it was. As they walked through the rusted gates of an overgrown Victor’s Row, two houses showed any signs of life. Vanessa’s house sat at the end and there were clear personal touches to the exterior. The other house looked like it has recently been upgraded but his gaze didn’t last long on the outside. The door opened and two figures stood in the doorway.

“They’ve been waiting quite a while to see you Wade, go on and be with your family.”

Wade didn’t wait a moment longer as his feet took him forward until he collided within Hailey’s open arms. He clutched his arms around her in a tight hug, but found himself slipping to his knees as he buried his face into her thinned stomach. Tears fell freely as he shuddered into Hailey’s layered skirts.

“It’s okay sweetums... I have you now.” Hailey’s voice spoke softly as she ran her fingers through Wade’s projection of hair. He felt tense when he felt the barest hint of her nails cross the actual top of his head. He remained tense for only a moment before his tears began to fall faster. Blind Al had shuffled closer, putting a bare hand against Wade’s shoulder feeling the raised scars that laid beneath an odd hum of the projection.

They stayed that way until the sun faded behind the trees, leaving a chill in the air. Al ushered both Wilsons into the house and helped Hailey into bed when she struggled to walk. Wade watched all of this, feeling useless as he clenched his hands into fists. When Al disappeared upstairs, Wade walked out the back and sat on the stairs, staring up at the night sky. His eyes scanned over the stars, reveling in the fact that these were real.

A throat clearing broke Wade out of his star gazing, causing him to tense and reach for the knife that he kept hidden on his hip. His gaze snapped up to a disgruntled Al. Wade huffed as he relaxed slightly, still on edge, “What do you want you old bag?”

“Well that’s a great way to say hi after half a year.” Al snapped back. She fell silent for only a second before sighing, “You want to explain what the fuck happened to you?”

“No.”

[Blind old bat]

{Kill her}

“Well that’s a damn shame but do better to keep yourself together around your ma. She knows something is up with you. She’s been listenin’ to all your interviews at each of the districts, we both have.”

Wade clenched his jaw hard, “I’m not telling her anything.”

“Mm… Good luck with that one, but Wade… You might want to spend time with her. That healer has been by more and more and she’s been saying more bad news.”

Wade looked down at the wooden stairs beneath him, feeling his heart give way to sorrow. He didn’t speak a word. He couldn’t and didn’t know how to respond to this kind of news.

{Suits you right}

[You thought you could just walk right back here and everything would be sunshine and rainbows]

{You’re such an idiot}

[Maybe her mind will be gone and she won’t know that her son is a murderer]

{A killer who enjoyed taking those lives}

[They did scream so pretty] 

“It's good to have you home though.”

Wade let out a short laugh, “Fucking... This isn't my home Al, you know that. My home is a pile of rubble miles from here.”

“Well it's the closest thing you got to a home.”

Wade scoffed, digging his hands into his jeans. Al let out a huff behind him as she shuffled to sit next to him, “Don't have to talk about it Wade, but something happened, didn't it?”

Silence was her only response, so she pushed through, “I felt it. Whatever happened. For what it's worth, I am sorry that this happened to you.”

Wade sneered as he stood up. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he left Al behind on the steps. He just needed to be anywhere but there.

~*~

Wade stood on a hill during a cloudy and foggy afternoon, clutching an urn to his chest as tears fell freely down his cheek. He mumbled to himself, pleads that the world would have taken him and left his mother alone. He stood on that hill until the rain started to fall. The ground beneath him grew wet enough as he knelt down, digging into the earth with his bare hands. It took time but he was able to gingerly place the urn in his makeshift hole.

[You killed her]

He rubbed the back of his hand across his cheek, smearing mud. Wade’s voice was hoarse as he whispered, “I’m sorry mom…”

{She would never forgive you}

He stayed there for a moment before pushing the mud over, burying the urn. Wade sat in the rain until his shivering became so much that it hurt. Then he walked back to his home, feeling more empty than ever before.

~*~

Time passed for Wade in odd moments as though the world around him was a sick movie. Wade knew that he had grown distant, frustrating Al and Vanessa from the brief moments of lucidity. People in the District kept their distance and many ushered their children away whenever he came near. There were rumors that he had gotten himself into drugs or alcohol to deal with the world, while others believed that Wade wasn’t actually Wade anymore that he was merely a Capital puppet. When he was alert enough to hear those whispers, he actually laughed.

Wade grew cruel with each passing year that he had to help children survive the games. The first year he was a mentor, he grew too attached to the pair. Watching both of them die, he felt each wound that was inflicted on them on himself. He beat himself up for not teaching them enough and the voices, that were a constant companion, agreed. Each year he pulled away more and more until all he provided for each group of tributes was snarky and harsh words. Vanessa would try to counter him, but that often led to the two yelling at each other until one of them got fed up enough to storm off.

With each year that passed with more children' death, the more rumors and harsh words lashed at Wade. Parents called him unnecessarily cruel and that he was the reason for their death. He would always scoff at them and walk away, only to collapse into self-loathing away from prying eyes.

This year Wade sat in his chair, opposite to Vanessa who was glaring at him. She had offered to help him with something that he couldn’t even remember but he pushed her away like normal. He purposely kept from glancing over and stared blankly out to the crowd.

{Who do you think it’ll be this year?}

[We don’t get to choose, either way they’ll be a pretty stain on someone]

{Oooh do you think they’ll splat?}

Wade flinched at the voices, clenching his hand into his thigh to let the pain distract him from listening.

Weasel’s voice droned on like the buzzing of a fly that he desperately wanted to swat but he couldn’t. Wade shook his head, rubbing at his ear with his free hand.

“For the gentlemen...” Weasel stepped in front of Wade, pulling a piece of paper from the bowl. Stepping back in front of the microphone, unfolding the slip before clearing his voice to say, “Peter Parker!”


	2. Heartache

District 3 was a marvel to mankind and Peter knew that it would be his destiny to add to the brilliance of his district. Even at such a young age, he tried desperately to follow after his parents when they went to work. Peter’s mother, Mary, would always laugh and push him back inside to stay with their nanny. Richard, Peter’s father, would always be a bit more firm but had been known to bend and sneak Peter with him to his labs. There was no place better in all of Panem.

A little ignorant of the world, Peter believed that all the districts were like his. How could they not be? With the new technologies being created every day and every advancement made, it was hard to imagine life without those wonders. Whenever Peter brought up any talk of the other district, his parents would look at each other and frown. They would quickly change the subject or just talk over Peter until he left it alone.

Peter was nothing if not stubborn and curious, so he found himself sneaking around their home at night when little kids should be asleep.

“Why don’t you just tell him Richard? He’s smarter than you think.” Mary’s voice cut through the hum of filtered air in the quiet home.

“That’s exactly what scares me.” Richard’s voice sounded defeated. Peter tilted his head at his parents door before slowly and as quietly as possible sneak to their partially opened door. He hugged the wall as he pushed his ear closer to the opening to better hear them.

“Well lying to him isn’t going to do anyone any favors. He’s going to get to the age of needing to know or he’s going to grow up ignorantly like the other District children.”

“Ignorance is bliss.” Richard weakly chuckled.

“Richard.” Mary snapped back at him, “I refuse to have Peter grow up not knowing the truth and if you don't tell him then I will.”

Footsteps started to get closer to the door and Peter scrambled away back into his room. Dashing under the covers, he could hear his mother walking down the hallway and down the stairs. He lay in his bed, wondering what could his parents possibly be talking about. His mind raced as he tried to find any possible information that he might have missed. His mother was clearly upset about whatever his parents were refusing to tell him, so it would have to be something bad.

As it turned out, Peter didn’t have to wait too long for his answer. A couple nights later, Peter was sitting with his mother while she read him a bedtime story. His father walked in with his hands behind his back. He stood there for a moment before clearing his throat, “Peter. There is something that I’d like to tell you.”

Peter and his mother both looked up at Richard, “What is it, dad?”

“Well it's about the other districts and Panem.”

“Oh! Is it story time? Mom was already reading to me, but if it's okay with Mom, I'd rather hear your story dad!”

His parents seemed to be sharing a look but Peter wasn't paying too much attention, only making more space for his dad on his small bed. Mary chose to get up, giving up her spot next to Peter so Richard could take over. Richard did end up taking her spot as he pulled Peter close to his side.

“Now Peter what I'm about to tell you, you have to keep it a secret okay? No one but mommy knows about this.”

Peter nodded as he leaned against his father, looking up at him admiringly. Richard stumbled over his words for a moment as he tried to find the right ones. He closed his eyes as though to prep himself before opening his eyes and looking directly at Peter, “Our district isn't what it seems. Do you remember how once a year people around here get really quiet or very angry?”

Peter looked up at Richard with wide eyes as he thought about it. He nodded and Richard continued, “Well there is an event that happens once a year called The Hunger Games.”

“I've heard about that!” Peter exclaimed proudly.

Both Richard and Mary looked stunned for a moment but Richard recovered quicker, “Oh? And what have you heard about it?”

“It's something all the districts do because one of the districts was very bad and now we do it.” It was a far too basic answer to really describe what it was, but Richard and Mary knew Peter was only just getting into schools.

“Well.... that's kind of right.” Mary offered.

“But not as a whole.” Richard firmly stated, “It is true that one district that no longer exists was the start of the hunger games. It was more to put punishment on the rest of the districts to keep them from making the Capital angry.”

“Ooooh... But what kind of games are they dad?”

“Well Peter, they aren't games.”

“But they are called games.” Peter tilted his head confused.

“It's a bad name for what the Capital says are games. You see, every year a boy and a girl from each district gets picked to participate in the games. They don't get to choose if they want to go.” Mary spoke as she came closer to the bed, sitting by Peter's feet.

“But that's not nice!” Peter looked hurt on behalf of all the other children. Mary couldn't help but smile as she patted Peter's feet.

“It's not nice or fair. These children are put on display for all the districts to watch them fight to the death and only one person wins.” Richard grew angry as he thought about it.

Peter grew very quiet as he looked down at his hands. He was silent for a time before ever so softly he asked, “Why?”

Mary and Richard shared a look before Mary pushed forward, gathering Peter up in her arms, “Because the Capital is filled with very bad and mean people. They don't care for the families that are hurt, only for the entertainment and punishment of others.”

Peter buried his face into her shoulder, letting a few fat tears get absorbed into her clothes. The Parkers were silent before Peter jerked out of his mother's arms, frantically looking between them, “But what about me?”

Richard put a hand on the mop of unruly hair and smiled, “This is what you have to keep secret, but there are people who are fighting against this.”

Peter shook as he looked up at his father, “Fighting against it?”

“That's right. There are people in each district that are tired of seeing their children die or what happens to the winners. Your mother and I have been trying to help in our district but it's very hard.”

“Why?”

“Well, you know we are in District 3 and because we are here, we are so close to the Capital that it's hard to make progress against them.”

“Because of the peacekeepers?”

“Precisely. There are a few that are disloyal to the Capital, but you can't take risks on who.” Richard looked up to Mary before looking down at Peter, “We are trying to find a symbol to recognize people but that isn't easy.”

“Why?”

Mary patted Peter's back, “Because if it is too recognizable, people will get hurt until there is no more fight against the Capital.”

“Oooh...” Peter nodded before looking back at his mother's shoulder thoughtfully. Mary and Richard shared a look before she spoke, “We are a family that shares things Peter, so we didn't want there to be a secret among us.”

Peter didn't answer, so Mary tucked him back into bed. Both his parents kissed him on the forehead and wished him a good night before turning off his light, going to bed themselves. Peter laid awake, looking up at the ceiling and thought about everything his parents had told him. Besides him, he could see and hear the district quietly hum away as people rarely slept. Peter turned his gaze to watch the streaks and strobes of light as they went about their business. He looked at each of those lights differently now. Within an instant, the once ignorant belief that his district was the best was gone and replaced with a hard reality. He thought over his parents words and his curiosity was peaked when Richard spoke of one district that no longer exists. He would need to ask about that tomorrow.

~*~

With each year, Peter found out more and more information about the other districts. Some of the information he gained from books or his parents. While other information, he pieced together with his own common sense; he wasn't sure if he was right, but he looked forward to being told the correct information.

He learned that his father wasn't actually from District 3 but from a completely different district. Apparently, people used to be able to travel freely between the districts and could settle anywhere they pleased. Though it was hard to settle in District 1 because of the price of living, it was typically left for people who could afford it or were invited. But now it was impossible to change districts unless the Capital approved of it or invited you to live elsewhere. Richard was lucky enough to stay due to underground connections providing forged documents that proved he was born there.

Peter found out he had an Aunt and Uncle who lived in District 12. He begged and pleaded for days after about going to visit them. Richard and Mary had to remind him that traveling between districts was now even harder and there had to be a specific reason for seeing them. Peter alternated between being angry and sad that there was family out there that he would never get to meet.

Schooling became a drag to Peter after a few years when they would switch between technology and propaganda. Whenever they would focus on science, math, or literally anything but Panem propaganda, Peter enjoyed school. It was when the teachers switched over to explaining the Hunger Games or the importance of it, he just turned off his brain. It had been a few years since his parents had first explained everything to him. So Peter was having a hard time justifying why he should listen to government officials explain why killing children was right.

The school bell had rung half an hour ago but Peter remained in his seat, staring at the book they had last discussed. It was a record of all the winners from each game and they were broken up by the year and who had worked on that game. He couldn't believe what was written in the book, he just couldn't. His parents would have told him about this, wouldn't they? Peter grabbed his backpack, shoving off his books inside and raced off home. The school wasn't too far away from home, but today it felt like it was miles away.

Bursting through the door, he heard his parents both call out in different ways about how to open and close a door. Peter stood in the open doorway, panting as his backpack fell onto the floor, spilling its contents. He locked eyes with the book of Victors before he snatched it up, racing upstairs where he found his parents walking into the hallway from their respective offices.

“Peter? Are you okay honey? It looks like you've seen a ghost.” Mary stepped forward to try and comfort Peter, but instead a book flew and landed in front of her. Mary looked down at the conveniently opened book. It took a moment for her to understand before her face paled. She covered her mouth with her hand before looking over to Peter, “Peter...”

“What is it Mary?” Richard stepped forward, but not fast enough to react.

Peter shouted, “Was it a lie?! Did you feed me that lie to feel better about yourselves? Did you even mean anything you told me?!”

“Now Peter there is no reason to sho-”

“YOU'VE KILLED KIDS!” Peter slammed his foot onto the hardwood floor, effectively silencing everyone. No one spoke or moved and only Peter's little pants filled the air. Richard and Mary glanced between each other, at a loss for what to do.

Richard stepped forward, picking up the book. He didn't need to look at it to know what Peter found. He closed the book, “I have.”

Peter looked up at Richard, tears starting to stream down his cheeks, “W...Was everything a lie?”

Richard frowned, “No Peter, everything we've told you is the truth. Please let me explain.”

Peter shook his head, stepping backwards, “You're a monster.” He slipped into his room, escaping his parents' pleads. He slammed the door shut, using his body as a barricade. A soft knock came to the door shortly later, his mother's voice calling out, “Peter, sweetie. Open the door, let us talk about this.”

Peter hiccuped, rubbing at his face. He couldn't believe his parents had kept this after saying there would be no lies hidden within the family. They should have told him something this big. Was that why they lived so nicely? He's read about other districts and how poorly people are treated, so was he one of the elite children because of this? Did he have blood on his hands as well? Peter curled in on himself and his thoughts, letting them quickly run away.

Tears fell harder with each worsening thought until he was crying just for the sake of crying. After a while, his tears gave way, leaving Peter feeling empty on his bedroom floor. He just laid there, watching the sun set behind high-rises and apartment buildings. The auto lights within the city and Peter's own room flared to life as the sun's light faded into night. Peter remained on the floor, ignoring all the tentative knocks. Eventually Peter got himself off the floor and crawled into bed, feeling drained. He didn't remember falling asleep that night, but he woke up to his alarm the next morning.

Peter clicked it off and shuffled downstairs in yesterday's clothes. He walks into the kitchen, unaware of anyone else there.

“Good Morning Peter.” Mary softly spoke as she set her half empty cup of coffee down. Peter jerked to a halt, looking over at her a little wildly. Before Peter could speak, she raises her hand, “Your father has already left for work. I doubted that you would join us today so I called your school. I'm sure one of your friends will bring your homework.”

Peter sighed out a breath, but looked at his mother weary. Mary gestured to one of the empty chairs, “I can explain this time if you want answers.”

He glanced towards the kitchen opening, weighing his options. His head tilted side to side with each internal point before his curiosity won out. He walked over to the empty seat and sat, his arms crossed as he looked at Mary expectantly.

“I want you to know first Peter that we mean what we say. We are trying to stop these games, but things didn't always start that way.” Mary sighed, clutching her coffee mug a little more firmly.

“District 3 can be a wondrous place for inventions and scientific discovery, but sometimes you come across something that isn't so. Your father and I had been struggling to find backers for our experiments. We both refused to accept government funding because we knew what that would mean.” She fiddled with the mug, unclenching and clenching her hand around the porcelain.

“Looking back on it, we should have known better. But when an unknown backer reached out to us, providing funding for whatever we wanted, it was like a sign. After struggling for so long, it felt like a dream come true. I have many regrets as I'm sure your father does, but this will always be the biggest. We didn't bother trying to find out who it was as they merely asked for some items. They seemed harmless enough.” Peter listened to her mother carefully, gauging her words and expressions.

“When the games came up, we were almost too busy to pay attention. It was your father who noticed it. It was such a simple thing that anyone else wouldn't have seen it. But your father knows his own work. We stopped working after your father saw our work being used as weapons. We watched each and every death after that. When the victor was called, we dealt with the aftermath.” Mary moved one of her hands, rubbing at her eyes to stop the tears, “We called out our backer but we couldn't stay unanimous. They came and took pictures of us and our so called in-genius experiments. We destroyed everything shortly after they left.”

“We called our backer, now knowing them to be the gamekeeper. We argued for days and before too long, we found our lab raided. But we had grown smarter from this, keeping our best ventures hidden where they would never find them. I wanted to burn that lab, but your father wouldn't let me.” Mary looked at Peter, “We left there, found better jobs and have been trying to repay our mistake for years.”

“But you can't hide from this.” Peter spoke.

“Oh we know sweetie. There is no redemption for what we have done. 23 children died thanks to our involvement but if we can help future children then maybe the guilt will subside a little.”

Peter nodded, not knowing what to say. There were no more tears to shed about this, all that remained was a deep-seated shame. He pushed himself away from the table and walked back to his bedroom, closing the door normally.

The rest of that year was met with awkward silences and stilted conversations. It was difficult for Peter to come to terms with what his parents had done, especially with other students saw them as goals for their own future. It sat heavy in his stomach. Peter started pushing people away when he found out that they only wanted to meet his parents and didn't actually care for him. He grew more secluded and careful about who he spoke with and what he spoke about. He was forever curious, always searching for answers, but now he feared the outcome.

~*~

The year was progressing nicely. There was more civility between himself and his parents. Jokes and smiles were a welcomed change, but there was still the icy reality that would damper some conversations. Peter would ask his parents questions about their time helping in the games, but it was always followed by a silent, regretful evening. Peter withdrew from the world a little further each day, pushing away his peers and growing stand-offish with anyone who tried to introduce themselves to him.

Richard and Mary worried about Peter, quietly talking about it when they were alone but neither could think of a way to counteract him. They did their best to encourage him to play with children of collages or to adventure outside of the house. Peter seemed to humor them, but would pull away when they got home. Peter seemed focused on his studies to the outsider's perspective but truthfully, he was just working as hard as possible so he could make the time pass.

During the reaping season that year, Peter pulled away from his parents once again. He couldn’t look them in the eyes when either asked him a question. The day of the reaping was a silent affair. No one in the house spoke as Peter got dressed in his best suit. The walk to the Mayoral block was filled with noise around them but not a peep was spoken from the Parker family. Mary went to give Peter a kiss and well wishes but Peter pulled away from them, joining the line of children ahead of them. Peter didn’t see the heartbroken expression on his mother’s face nor the clenched jaw of his father. He was shuffled through quickly and placed with other boys his age. Few of the kids around him spoke with joy in their voice, thinking of the honor of going to the games. Peter stared dead-eyed ahead, waiting for all of this to be over.

At the age of 12, this was Peter’s first reaping and thankfully his name was in only once. He silently begged for his name to not be pulled. As the announcer for the district took the stand and the traditional video was played, Peter hoped that the odds would truly be in his favor. The ladies were drawn first, Peter watched without seeing as an older girl was picked and walked onto the stage stoically. He held his breath as he watched the announcer ruffle through the gentlemen's names. The name was called and a boy a couple years older than Peter walked onto the stage. He heaved a sigh of relief, waiting patiently for everyone to disperse before looking for his parents. The rest of the afternoon was spent just as the day had begun, silent. Peter welcomed going to bed as he laid on his side, staring out the window that used to fill him with wonder. He watched the bright lights zip by and flicker before sleep took him.

The games were viewed wherever Peter went, except for home. It was on by mandate of the Capital but it was muted and no one in the Parker residences watched it. The days went on and without knowing it Peter counted each day that the games had lasted. He thought about how much each of the kids were suffering, except for District 1 and 2’s tributes who seemed to relish the violence. At the end of the whole thing, it had lasted a month and there was one victor. Peter was forced to watch it while at school. A bloody display of betrayal as the male tribute from district 2 slashed the throat of his so-called allies. The male tribute stood proudly as his name was called out by the gamekeeper, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 43 annual Hunger Games, Ajax.”

After the first cut, Peter had to look away, feeling the bile build up until he excused himself from class. No one heard him as they were too enraptured in the games. He raced out the hall, bursting through the door, locking it behind him. He slammed his back into the door and slid down onto the cold tile floor. Peter remained there, trying his best to erase the images from his mind.

~*~

With the games over, the tentative peace within the Parker residence came back. Peter started to open up more to his parents, telling them more about his day and what he had been learning. He enjoyed seeing his parents’ faces light up when he tells them how much he’s enjoying chemistry and that he hopes that he’d be able to work on biochemistry in the future. His parents both start finding excuses to bring Peter with them to work, so they can show him their own little experiments. Peter soaks in the information like a sponge and ever so slowly Peter warms up even more.

He relished the days spent away from school, happily ignoring the troubles of the world around him in order to absorb as much information from his parents as possible. After some complaints from the school, Mary and Richard found a good routine that had Peter still going to school but allowed them to take him with them ever so often. The joyfulness of the younger and more naive Peter started to shine through as he finally found some amount of peace.

~*~

It was a cold morning in November, Peter had gotten up early, expecting today to join his parents in their labs. He was surprised to walk downstairs and see neither parents there, only a note.

‘ _ Peter, _

_ I’m sorry we didn’t wake you up, but we got called in so much earlier than we thought. You’ll have to go to school today. We’ll see if we can get you out early, probably around lunch. We will see you then! _

_ Love you sweetie, _

_ Mom & Dad _ ’

Peter sighed, shoving the note into his backpack before getting ready for school. He walked by himself, since the bus hadn’t stopped by today to pick him up. His sneakers squeaked against the frosty pavement as he quietly walked to school.

His teacher was shocked to see Peter there, but quickly got him looped into the schedule of the day. He made sure to show his teacher the note so they knew he’d be gone for the afternoon, but they merely scoffed. Peter didn’t pay attention to a single thing that they said, watching the clock impatiently. Time ticked by slowly until finally the bell rang to alert everyone that it was lunch. Throwing his backpack onto his back, he raced out to the front of the school, bumping into peers as he went. Bursting through the doors, he half expected his parents to already be walking in. He glanced around before shrugging and sitting down on the steps, waiting for them to come by.

Peter waited, tapping his foot against the cement to some rhythm that kept changing every couple stancas. He adjusted his position every once in a while as he tried to stay comfortable in an uncomfortable spot. He kept waiting until the bell finally rang again, indicating the end of lunch. Peter glanced back towards the doors and then back to the stretch of road in front of him. He knew his parents wouldn’t forget him, but they could have gotten busy in an experiment and were on their way now. He decided to stay where he was for the time being, certain that they would be coming soon.

An hour and a half passed before Peter started to grow worried. He knew his parents could get wrapped up in things but now they were two hours late. He picked himself up and started to walk toward their labs. If they weren’t going to pick him up, then he was going to go to them and guilt trip them for dessert tonight. He was so wrapped up in thinking that he didn’t notice the scream of sirens or the shocked cries from passersby.

It wasn’t until he was stopped by a peacekeeper as he tried to get into his parents’ labs that he finally broke from his own thoughts. The building in front of him was smoldering with thick black smoke pouring out of broken windows and holes filled with twisted metal and wires. Peter’s heart stopped as his body reacted on it’s own, pushing against the peacekeepers firm grip.

“Kid! You can’t go in there!”

Tears started to well in his eyes as he found his voice and shouted, “My parents are in there!”

The grip on him remained firm but Peter watched as the peacekeeper knelt down, trying to get within his vision. Peter stared up at the wreckage of the third floor that would be the labs. He kept staring as tears rolled down his cheek. The peacekeeper was trying to say something but blood was pounding in his ears. His heart lurched to his throat as it began to pound faster in panic.

Peter tried to wiggle and push away from the peacekeeper but with a loud creaking sound, he watched the building caves in on itself. A billow of smoke pushed out into the crowd before drifting lazily up into the sky. Peter stared at the ruins of the building as a sob ripped out of him, causing him to collapse into the peacekeeper. They spoke quietly to him but he didn’t hear a single thing. He clenched his eyes tightly, hoping that when he opened his eyes he’d be at home and this would all be a bad nightmare. He would see his parents downstairs, waiting to take him to work with them.

Peter didn’t remember getting home. He was completely numb to the world. He couldn’t seem to respond to anyone who came by the house with well wishes and to share sorrows. The funeral was a quick and quiet affair and due to the travel ban, his uncle and aunt were not able to be there. Peter felt a small amount of anger surge within him at the travel ban. The Capital made it so his family couldn’t be there for the funeral but it seemed like they didn’t try hard enough to come.

His parents' will was found shortly after the funeral, stating that Peter would go to his Aunt and Uncle. Everything they owned would be given to Peter, but being a minor caused a bit of trouble. He was given some time to remain within the home to pack up what little he could. Going into his parents room was the hardest, but he knew that he wanted to keep something of theirs before the Capital took it away “temporarily”. He packed up as many pictures as he could within his backpack, stashing his camera away. His clothes and many sentimental items were packed up in a couple boxes that the peacekeepers provided for him. When no one was looking, he slipped away into his father’s office. Peter made sure to be as silent as possible before opening up the hidden spot within the desk and removed the hidden briefcase within. He had to carefully pack it away within his clothes, so no one would get suspicious.

When he told the peacekeepers that he was finished, they carted him off to the train station with his belongings. They left him there with a firm word to remain where he was until a peacekeeper from District 12 came for him. The train station was mostly barren except for a few patrolling keepers and some staff that seemed to be waiting for the train’s arrival. Peter looked down at his meager belongings with block letters of his ownership and where they would be going. He thought about what was in each box, categorizing each item within to make sure that he really had everything he wanted or needed.

What he really wanted couldn’t fit in a box. That thought brought a snuffle out and his eyes to glass over with unshed tears. Using his sleeve, he rubbed at his nose, thinking that would stop the tears from falling. Small drops darkened his jeans as the tears fell even as Peter kept trying to get them to stop. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, squeezing himself tightly.

A throat clearing startled Peter as he looked up at a rougher looking peacekeeper. The man grunted down at him, “Peter Parker.”

He nodded, not having the energy to speak nor trusting his voice not to break. The man nodded at him and then to the train that had come into the station. He stood up, gathering what he could carry. The peacekeeper grabbed the few boxes and walked him onto the train. Peter looked around at the interior of the train with a small amount of awe, standing in the way. A loud, annoyed grunt from the keeper behind him forced him to move on. Peter flushed a little from embarrassment before pushing forward. The peacekeeper stopped them at a cabin. He dropped off the boxes and looked down at Peter, who was looking around lost, “Stay here until I come to get you when we arrive at 12. Do not open this door for anyone.”

Peter nodded a little intimidated but it went unseen as the door shut without a response. He looked around the small cabin that had two benches on opposite sides and one long window looking out to the station of District 3. The sun was already disappearing as the bright lights started to shine within the city. Peter held his backpack close to him as he shuffled to sit by the window. A small lurch was the only warning that he received before the station blurred away. He watched the bright lights of District 3 slip away as he silently said good-bye to his home. Peter puts his hand on the glass, sniffling as he sees the lights disappear into the foliage racing by. His hand remained on the window until his arm grew weak and slid back into his lap. He slumps back into the seat as he absentmindedly stares out to the trees and fields in the moon’s light.

The trip carried on uneventfully. Peter remained locked within his cabin, only let out to use the restroom or to stretch his legs but the silent peacekeeper remained his constant companion. Peter was thankful for the silence, it gave him time to cope with his changing world. Whenever they stopped off in a district, he looked out the window to catch a glimpse of his surroundings. The further the train went, the harsher the districts became. Peter was curious, but he knew better than to ask why each district was the way it was. He tried not to let his mind wander too far because it would always bring back tears.

~*~

When the train pulled into District 12’s station, Peter gathered up his few belongings and waited for the peacekeeper. He awkwardly stood by the door for a few minutes before it slid open and the rough peacekeeper walked in. He grunted for Peter to move before picking up the boxes and led Peter out. The first thing Peter noticed when he walked out onto the station platform was how rundown everything was. It was jarring after being surrounded by sleek and modern buildings. He did his best to keep his expression hidden but it was no problem when there was only one other person on the platform.

The man that stood in front of him was far older than what he expected. He was in a nicer suit but even that was hard to say when there were frayed edges to his jacket and pants. He held a hat in his hands and was looking at Peter and the peacekeeper with sorrowful excitement. The peacekeeper walked forward, placing the boxes next to the man and Peter followed silently.

“Benjamin Parker.” The peacekeeper’s rough voice cut through the silence.

“That’s me.” The man, Benjamin, spoke, his attention fully on the man in front of him.

“I am delivering Peter Parker to be taken care of by yourself and wife per the wishes of your brother Richard Parker. Do you accept this duty?” As the peacekeeper spoke, Peter looked down at his feet, mixed feelings wrestling uncomfortably in his stomach. He didn’t hear Benjamin respond before he felt one of the figures move. He looked up almost in a panic before he noticed that it was the peacekeeper who left, leaving him alone with his so called family members. Benjamin grunted as he knelt down to be more at eye level with Peter, which made him suddenly dislike this man. He said, “Hi Peter. I’m sorry that you’re here but I’m glad that we’re finally able to meet.”

Peter stared at the man’s weathered face and now that he was closer, he could still see some youth in his features. He looked away, remaining quiet.

“I know this will be hard, but how about we get to your new home and you can meet your aunt.” Ben grunted as he pushed up, his knees popping as he did. He grabbed the boxes and looked down to Peter, “Stick close, we don’t live too far away but I don’t want to lose you while trying to get you home. May would have my head.”

His poor attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears as Peter gave the briefest of nods. They walked together in silence as Peter took in his new surroundings. The first thing that Peter noted was that everything was rundown and weathered, every building and even the people who were bustling about. Peter moved to walk closer to Benjamin, suddenly feeling overdressed. He kept his eyes mostly down, not wanting to be caught staring.

After a good ten minute walk, they stopped in front of a white building with some of the paint peeling on the sides. Peter glanced around and noticed buildings on the opposite side. Benjamin seemed to notice this, “Ah, sorry I’m a poor guide. We passed through the Square and that has the Hob. The Hob is where you can find items if you’re quiet about it. We’re in the Merchant’s Section right now. The only place you haven’t been is the Seam but don’t go out there if you can help it… at least not until you get used to being around here.”

Peter’s curiosity got the better of him, “Why?”

Benjamin looked a little startled after hearing Peter speak for the first time, but he poorly covered it up, “It’s the rougher side of District 12. You look out of place as it is here, Peter, going there won’t help you in any way.”

Peter looked away but followed him into the store. Peter was assaulted by the smells of various herbs and an underlying smell of dirt. He shook his head in a vain attempt to try and clear the smells but they stayed.

“Benjamin Parker! Did you take the long way home?” A female voice called from a back room, muffled by a wooden wall. Peter was too distracted to see the sheepish appearance of the man. He was too busy taking in all the jars filled with herbs, both dried and alive. He could see closer to the back of the crowded room was shelves of premade salves and liquids.

“Just trying to show Peter the way home from the station.” Benjamin called back. He looked down at Peter, nudging him forward. His voice slipped into a lower octave as he whispered, “May is in the back, she’s been waiting to meet you.”

Peter looked up at him unsure but started to edge towards the counter, seeing an open door that he could only assume lead to a storage room. He hesitated, unsure if he should go in or just wait patiently. Peter didn’t have to wait long before May pushed her way out of the storage room, placing several empty jars on the counter. They clicked against the counter as May dusted off her hands about ready to shout over to Benjamin before she noticed Peter standing in front of her. A smile grew on her face as she came around, pulling Peter firmly into her arms.

He tensed on instinct, unsure of this woman holding him and still tense from being in a new environment. May eased up on him, looking down at him with the smile still on his face, “Hello Peter, I am your Aunt May. It’s so nice to see you.”

Peter didn’t know how to react. Truthfully, this was the first hug that he had in weeks, but it was jarring to get one from a complete stranger. He looked up at May, opening and closing his mouth a few times before dropping his gaze to the floor. Although May stepped away, she kept a hand on his shoulder, “You probably had a long trip, why don’t we go and get you set up in your room.”

He numbly nodded, letting himself be taken past a large window over seeing the porch and a worn down cobbled road. A more sturdy door was opened and showed stairs going up. May walked ahead while Peter slowly puttered behind. Each step squeaked until he got to the landing where another door was held open for him. Peter glanced up at May before slowly taking a step into the room.

It was a far cry from the modern home that he had grown up in but there were plenty of homey comforts that made Peter relax. Picture hung on every free spot on the wall while plants hung from the ceiling and sat on empty surfaces. There were a few lights but there were mostly candles. The room had a rough looking couch against the wall and a rocking chair next to it. A small kitchen hugged the other side of the wall and then there were three doors along the far wall. May tutted as she busied herself with some dishes that were left out. She called from the sink, “Your room is the right door. We are on the left and the middle is the bathroom.”

Peter stood where he was, still taking in the chaos around him before making his way to his new room. The door creaked open as he took in a barren room. A thin mattress laid on a slightly rusted metal bed frame while a wooden desk with a chair sat opposite. There was a closet that Peter inspected to be small enough that he could still sit in it if he wanted. He placed his bag and suitcase on his bed and sat, listening to the frame groan in protest. From outside he heard May humming as he let the world wash over him.

Peter’s shoulders hunched forward as he buried his face into his hands, trying to stifle his sobs. He flopped over onto the mattress, not even hearing May close the door and her firm words to Benjamin to leave him be.

~*~

The next few days passed Peter by with little change. He remained in his room except for meals when May put a foot down on being family time. Peter liked to think he knew what to expect from District 12, but he was having a hard time coming to terms with everything. He had gotten brave enough one night to ask about school which Benjamin and May told him was currently off and would be starting next month. He wasn’t quite sure if he believed them, but he didn’t know enough to call them out on it. May and Benjamin would ask questions that Peter sometimes would answer and other times remain silent. Benjamin, who told Peter to call him Ben, seemed to try harder to get Peter to answer, while May approached more carefully. The walls were thin enough that he could hear them arguing every once in a while.

Into Peter’s second week in District 12, he opened up to May. Ben was working somewhere and it was just the two of them. May had put her foot down on Peter staying upstairs when the store was open. She would say that being cooped up wouldn’t help anyone, so he found himself sitting on a stool watching May cut plants. Curiosity won Peter over as he asked, “What are you doing?”

May didn’t give any reaction other than a small smile, “Cutting the leaves of sage so I can easily crush it into a paste.”

“Why?”

She laughed, “So I can make a paste for our neighbor next door. Trust me when I say this Peter, you don’t want to know what for.”

Peter looked a little wide eyed at her before nodding and falling quiet. He watched her work for the rest of the afternoon, keeping to the storage room whenever customers came in. When it came time to close, May broke Peter’s thoughts by calling out to him, “You can stop hiding now, the store is closed.”

Peter sheepishly walked out, rubbing his arm as he looked down, “Sorry…”

May tutted as she worked around the store, checking on everything, “There is nothing to be sorry about. You’re in a new place, sometimes it is hard to adjust.”

“You’re not mad?” Peter asked hesitantly.

“Now why would I be mad?” She looked surprised at him before understanding dawned, “Ah, I think Ben just worried about you. He doesn’t know what to do, it's nothing that you’re doing. He wants to help but doesn’t quite know how.”

Peter’s shy appearance shifted to a frown, “Why does he even care?”

“Peter…”

He bulldozed over May, turning a glare at her, “Why do either of you care? You didn’t care enough to come to the funeral! You didn’t care enough to even call or write! Nothing! Now you expect me to just accept that I’m stuck here because my parents die....”

Peter’s voice softens as tears start to roll down his cheek. He huffs in a few breaths, staring at May who looks close to tears herself. Peter shakes his head, rubbing at his face as he dashes passed her and bursts out the door. The door bumps Ben back as Peter races by, running towards the darkening trees. He could hear Ben and May calling after him, but he didn’t stop until he was well into the trees. He slowed until he came to a stop, falling to his knees, letting a heartbreaking sob rip through him. He cried and screamed until his throat was dry and sore. The sun had disappeared by the time he was done. He leaned against a tree, staring at the world around him. Exhausted, he let his eyes droop without a fight, falling asleep in the wilderness.

~*~

“Do you think he’s dead?” A higher pitched voice spoke in a facade of trying to be quiet.

“He’s still breathing.” A voice snapped back.

“Well I’m not getting close enough! What if he was?” The first voice snarked back.

Peter groaned, his voice raspy from lack of moisture, “Go away…”

“See. Dead people don’t talk.”

Peter’s brows furrow as he blinks awake. The sun blazed down through the leaves, temporarily blinding him. He put up his arm in some kind of attempt to block the sun. After a few minutes of keeping his eyes closed and opening them for a few seconds, he was able to keep them open long enough to see his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was two girls standing a short distance from him. One girl had curly hair that looked red but also looked brown and dark brown eyes. She looked rougher than the girl next to her. She wore clothes that had seen better days and a firm glare on her face. The girl next to her was the exact opposite with shortly cut blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She wore clothes that were still rough but were in far better condition than the red/brown haired girl. He pushed himself up, using the tree as support, groaning as he picked a stick out from his shirt, “Where am I?”

The girls shared a glance before the red/brown haired girl stepped forward, “You’re not some district runaway are you?”

“What?”

“A district runaway! You know, people who illegally cross the district borders.”

Peter looked between the two girls as though they were crazy, “I moved here legally.”

The two girls stared at him, with the brown haired girl crossing her arms, “Uh-huh, sure. What proof do we have for that huh?”

“Proof?”

The blonde haired girl put a hand on the other girl’s shoulder, “MJ, he’s not carrying anything.”

“He could be hiding it.” The red/brown haired girl, MJ, shot back at the other girl.

Peter looked between the two, not sure how to prove anything to the girls. He clears his throat, “Well… I moved in with May and Ben in the Merchant section… I think that’s what it’s called.”

The blonde haired girl perked up at that, stepping away from MJ, walking towards Peter, “You’re Peter?”

He looked oddly at her, “How do you know my name?”

“Your Aunt has been talking up a storm about you. She’s pretty excited to have you here, though she hasn’t told anyone why.” She coyly looked at Peter, expecting an answer.

Peter glanced between the girls before sighing. He wasn’t going to get out of this easily, “My parents wanted me to move here.”

MJ scoffed, “Your parents want you to move from wherever you’re from to here; the poorest district in all of Panem, yeah right.”

Peter glared at MJ, “Believe what you want, but I’m telling the truth.”

The blonde haired girl stepped forward, looking closely at Peter. Her eyes squinted as she stared into his eyes for a long and awkward moment before she finally nodded and gave him a smile, “I believe him.”

“Gwen...” MJ started.

“We’ve heard crazier things MJ. Not everything is out to get you. Plus I’m sure his parents had a reason to send him here.” The blonde haired girl, Gwen, looked back at Peter. She put a hand on his shoulder and offered him a sympathetic smile as if she knew exactly why he was here. Peter rubbed at his face instinctively, looking away.

“Whatever, I’m watching you kid.” MJ stayed back, her arms crossed.

Peter shot a glare at her, “My name is Peter, not kid.”

“Don’t listen to MJ, she’s paranoid.” Gwen waved her hand, “I’m Gwen. I think you live a couple houses down from me, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

Peter glanced at Gwen for a moment before nodding his head towards MJ. Gwen’s smile faded, “Ah, well… MJ you probably will only see in school. She lives in the Seam.”

MJ puffed out her chest, “That’s right. Not everyone can be blessed to live in the Merchant Section.”

Peter glanced between the two girls, unsure of what to do or say. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself before finally asking, “What’s the big deal about the Merchants and the Seam?”

Gwen and MJ both went quiet, looking at him like he was crazy. Both girls spoke at the same time, “Didn’t your Aunt and Uncle tell you?” “The big deal?! Are you serious right now?”

The girls gave each other looks before Gwen spoke, “Well, the Merchant Section is where the businesses are in the district. People with a little more funds live there but people in the Seam…”

MJ butt in before Gwen could continue, “We’re the poorest of the poor. We are the folks that go down into the mines and supply the district and the Capital with all the coal they need.”

Peter nodded, “Ooh… So why are you two out in the woods?”

“Seam kids and Merchant kids aren’t really allowed to play together.” Gwen shrugged, “It’s dumb but it’s how it works here.”

Peter hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything. A long silence filled with the sounds of nature filled the void as Peter tried to find anything but MJ and Gwen to stare at. The girls were having a nonverbal conversation, gesturing towards Peter and then at each other. After a while, MJ let out an annoyed groan, “Fine. Hey Pete, you want to join us?”

Peter looked between them suspiciously, “I should… really be getting back.”

“See! He’s a runaway I knew it!”

“Shut up MJ.” Gwen snapped at her, “What do you mean getting back?”

“I sorta ran off last night from May’s shop.” Peter sheepishly replied. MJ clicked her tongue, while Gwen remained quiet.

“You ran away from your own family?” MJ asked judgmentally.

“They aren’t my family.” Peter snapped out.

“Of course they are, stupid. If your parents sent you to live with them, then they are your family. Do you really believe your parents are dumb enough to send you to strangers?”

“Leave my parents out of this!” Peter growled, taking a step forward.

“MJ.” Gwen tried her best to temper the conversation, but MJ took a step towards Peter, giving him a cocky grin, “Ooooh, touchy subject huh? What happened? Did your parents get sick of your personality? I’ve only met you for like 10 minutes and I’m sick of you.”

MJ!” Gwen turned to reprimand her but Peter lunged, tackling MJ to the ground. Gwen let out a gasp, “Peter!”

Peter and MJ wrestled for a minute before MJ forcibly pushed him into the dead leaves and sticks of the forest floor. She held Peter in a headlock while sitting on his back, both of them panting from exertion, “Pathetic. Wherever you come from, clearly it wasn’t a struggle to live.”

Peter wheezed as he tried to bat at her arms to let him go. MJ pushed a little more on his throat before letting go, getting pushed off by Gwen. Gwen glared at MJ while helping Peter up, “Sorry.”

He stumbled away from Gwen, rubbing at his throat before letting himself fall to his butt into the leaves. He wheezed a little more as he caught his breath again. Gwen went over to MJ and was firmly but quietly berating her. He watched them, “I was from District 3…” His voice was almost too quiet to hear a little sore from the applied pressure, but the bickering stopped and he felt their eyes land on him.

He continued, “My parents were scientists and they were going to take me to work with them.” He paused, looking down at his dirty hands, trying to keep himself calm enough to talk, “They said they had to go to work early but they’d pick me up for lunch. I waited… and waited but they didn’t show up. I went to their work and…”

Tears started to slide down his cheeks. He rubbed at them, smearing dirt over his cheeks, “There was an accident.”

Gwen let out a small gasp and MJ looked away. Gwen ran over, kneeling next to Peter, “Peter I’m so sorry. That’s why you were sent here.”

He nodded, still rubbing at his cheeks and tried to get himself to stop crying. MJ got up and walked over to him, “I’m sorry Pete. I didn’t really mean it.”

Peter shook his head, but didn’t fight when the girl flanked him into a hug. The trio stayed as they were until Peter finally got control over his tears. They spoke quietly until the sun shifted lower in the sky. MJ swore, which shocked Peter but she gave him a soft jab to his arm for his expression. She wished them a good afternoon and raced off. Gwen let Peter know that she needed to get home to help her parents in the afternoon. She helped Peter up, dusting him off and suggested they head home. Peter numbily nodded, letting Gwen drag him out of the woods. He wouldn’t have known where to go, so he let her lead the way. Their trip was quiet but Gwen filled it with some humming. It let Peter think about everything. He couldn’t keep acting this way, it wasn’t fair. Perhaps he should give his aunt and uncle a chance, it would be what his parents wanted. He couldn’t stay angry and bitter forever.

He let out a sigh, glancing up to see where they were. Gwen stood next to him in front of May’s shop and Peter shared a frightened expression. She just smiled, pushing him forward, “I’m sure they were worried sick about you.”

“What if they’re mad?”

“If they are, then it’ll be okay. From what it sounds like, you’ve been a brat.” Gwen put her hands on her hips, giving him a look. Peter flushed before walking to the door. He reached out for the handle but stopped, glancing back to Gwen.

Gwen rolled her eyes, shooing him, “I’ll see you around, we’re neighbors after all.”

He nodded, opening the door and walked in. The smell of herbs hit him in the face as he called out, “May? Ben?”

The sound of feet running across the ceiling causing some dust to float down. The sound crossed to the stairs until May burst from the door. She looked like she had been crying recently, which made Peter feel incredibly guilty. He opened his mouth to say something but May ran over to him, lifting him up into the air and hugged him close. She softly cooed to him, holding him close. Peter stiffened at first but relaxed slowly, wrapping his arms around her neck and hugged her in return. He pushed his face into her shoulder, squeezing her as she continued to softly speak to him.

She held him for what felt like an eternity but she put him down and placed her hands on his cheeks, “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

Peter nodded as much as he could in her grip. May leaned forward, placing a kiss on his forehead, “Now you get upstairs and get cleaned up.”

The two of them turned around to see Ben standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. May tutted, “Not now Ben.”

“Peter, you scared us pretty bad son.”

He flinched, turning his gaze to the ground, “I’m sorry…”

“I’m glad you’re okay, but we talk things out in this family. So if you have a problem, then you need to let us know. No more running off like that.”

Peter nodded before he walked upstairs, leaving Ben and May in the shop. The remainder of the night was spent quietly. His aunt and uncle did reprimand him but were far more relieved that he was okay. His punishment was that he had to help his uncle with the deliveries the next day. Peter offered no resistance and went to bed, thankful for a mattress.

~*~

Getting used to life in District 12 was rough for Peter. He had gotten used to the ease of life in 3, but now that was replaced by struggle and hardship. He found out the meaning of hunger quickly and found the answer just as fast. Getting food from the peacekeepers was an option the many used but the risks were great. Having your name entered each time the food was taken showed Peter the real power struggle of Panem. It frustrated him, especially if he brought it up to May and Ben. They would shrug and remind him that as how things worked here. When work provided lean pickings, Peter constantly thought of the government offerings.

May was one of the only healers and it kept her busy, yet people weren't always able to pay. May would always say that there was a reward of pride when one of her patients got better enough to keep working and living. Peter knew his aunt was right, but his stomach didn't always see things her way. When Peter wasn't busy with school, dodging Flash and his cronies and meeting up with MJ and Gwen; he found himself in the company of May or Ben. He enjoyed joining May on her home visits or helping make herbal fixes in her shop. It kept his mind active and May appreciated the company. When May didn't have work for Peter, he would join Ben at the Hob.

It turned out that Ben had quite the eye for electronics and knew his way around fixing the machinery of the district. Watching Ben work reminded Peter of his father and it made him feel bittersweet. Whenever Peter started acting melancholy, Ben would send him on errands around the Hob for parts or on wild goose chases. It helped keep Peter’s mind clear. Most of the workers fawned over Peter and if they had some broken equipment that couldn't be used for anything, they would sneak it to him. Pete’s room was quite cluttered with various odds and ends. The mess didn't seem to bother Ben and May too much as they only told him to clean up ever so often.

As much as it hurt to live in District 12, Peter found it comfortable. One afternoon, May had been called away for a home visit and Ben was tinkering in the mines, Peter sat by the large window in the shop. He had promised May and Ben that he would stay at the shop just in case someone came by looking for something. He absently read his book that laid haphazardly in his lap while his gaze kept going out to the outside world. The worn appearance of 12 had become comforting to Peter. He had gotten used to seeing the broken wood of the buildings. He liked to see the homes mixed with nature as though they were meant to be merged. It was such a drastic change from what he grew up with, that it had strangely become homey.

Running his thumb over the next page, absently flipping from page to page without really reading what was on any of the pages. Paying no mind to his book, a muted thud from outside quickly captured Peter’s attention. He jerked his head to look outside. The first thing he saw was someone hunched over on the cobblestone path by the shop and their shoulders were jerking in a familiar motion. He slid off his chair, walking out the back door. The broken sounds of sobs clenched at Peter’s heart as he called out, “Are you okay?”

No reply came except for the sobs. Peter chewed at his lip, unsure if he should help. He caught a glimpse of red smearing across the boy’s face. He nodded to himself and raced back inside, ducking under the counter to find May’s spare first aid kit. Peter opened it, taking inventory of everything within it so he can tell May.

Taking a step outside, the boy hadn’t moved except for the full body shivers that came with crying. Peter chewed on his lip as he started to walk carefully towards him. The boy’s clothes were disheveled and patched together but he had a head of blonde hair that Peter had come to recognize from people in the Merchant quarters. His clothes screamed Seam but he kneeled down next to the boy, softly speaking, “Hey, it’ll be okay. Can I see your hands?”

The boy didn’t respond to him, so Peter let his hand hover by the boy’s shoulder for a moment. He chewed on his lip a little more before he held a breath and let his hand make contact. He watched as the boy pulled his hands away from his face and looked at him with the saddest blue eyes that Peter had ever seen. He pulled back his hand, staring at the boy for a moment. The reds and oranges from the setting sun made the boy’s blonde hair appear darker. Peter shook his head and twisted his body to the kit next to him. He muttered to himself what he needed to clean out the cuts on his hands.

Peter pulled out a small bottle of alcohol, turning back to see the boy rubbing at his face, smearing more dirt and blood across his face. Peter scoffed and clicked his tongue, “You’ll only make it worse.”

His eyes went down to the boy’s hands. Peter winced at the scraps that ran along his palms. He tried gently to grab the boy’s hand but the boy hissed and tried to pull away. Peter applied some pressure, not giving up his grip. He kept his gaze on the boy’s hands as he spoke calmly, “You better stop it or it’ll hurt even more.”

Peter tilted the bottle of alcohol onto the boy’s hands, washing away most of the dirt and blood. He heard the boy whimper and Peter mentally kicked himself. He should be gentler. He knew his bedside manner was lacking. He was a scientist, after all, not a doctor. When he felt that he had poured enough alcohol on his hands, he capped the small bottle, shoving it into the kit. Peter quietly pulled out a small rag and dabbed at the boy’s hands. When he felt that they were dry enough, he pulled out some bandages and began wrapping the boy’s hands. He tied a small knot closer to the wrist so it wouldn’t be in the way. As he finished tying the second knot, he watched the hands disappear from his gaze. Peter’s eyes snapped up to watch the boy tuck his hands close to his chest and clench down on his hands. Peter let out an exasperated sigh but stayed quiet. He didn’t have any place to say what the boy could do with his hands.

Peter turned to put the remaining bandages back in the kit when his eyes slid down to land on the boy’s pants. They were stained a dark red but he knew there would be no way that he’d be able to convince this boy to lift his pant legs to let Peter wrap those. Peter bit back another sigh when he grabbed the rag again. He might not be able to help him with his knees but at least Peter could help clean up his face. Peter tilted his head and watched the boy stare at his knees for a moment. He contemplated if he should help any further but he could hear May’s voice in his head.

Peter leaned forward, bringing the rag to the boy’s cheeks. The boy jerked away, startling Peter and forcing him to pull back his hand. He looked wide eyed at the boy before dropping his gaze to the ground, mumbling, “Sorry.”

Peter held onto the rag, rubbing it between his finger and thumb.

“Why are you doing this?” The boy’s voice was far deeper than Peter expected, startling him to look up. He looked at the boy’s face still stained but it was his eyes that Peter was looking at. Peter flushed and looked down into his lap, “I saw you from the window…”

Peter didn’t look up, suddenly fascinated with his pants. The boy spoke in a forced tone as though he was fighting to say the words, “Well thanks I guess kid. You should probably run back to mommy and daddy before they worry about some Seam kid runnin’ off with their pride and joy.”

Peter winced at the mention of ‘Mommy and Daddy’. He pulled in on himself a little, trying his best not to think about them. They would have been proud of him helping someone, especially someone who seemed to be in desperate need. They would be proud, right? Peter bit down onto his lips, staring at his pants. May would be proud. He was sure Ben would be too. He took a deep breath, listening to the crickets chirping around them. Peter shook his head, letting the shake pass through his body before he turned a glare onto the boy he just helped, “I’m not a kid. I am 13, thank you very much.”

Peter watched the boy’s face shift into a stunned expression as they stared at each other for a moment. The boy turned his head away and Peter assumed that they were done. Peter huffed as he picked up the kit, pushing himself off the ground dusting himself off. The boy turned back to him but had to tilt his head up now. Peter kept his glare on him, “You’re supposed to be nice to people who help you and actually thank them properly. At least my parents taught me manners unlike yours.”

The boy’s stunned expression rapidly shifted to a glare as he growled out, “Fuck you kid.”

Peter’s glare grew more heated at the emphasis. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Ben’s voice rang through, “Peter! It’s dinner time!”

Peter kept his glare on the boy. They stayed where they were for a short time before Peter gave in and ran back to the building. How DARE that boy talk to him like that? He had just helped him with his hands and that was the thanks he got! Well fuck him too. Peter muttered angrily to himself as he slammed the door, throwing the kit onto the ground. All the contents of the kit spilled onto the floor but in Peter’s rage, he didn’t care. He stormed up the stairs to see May and Ben setting up the plates for dinner.

As Peter burst through the front door, May and Ben shared a look. Ben was the one to speak, “Everything okay there son?”

Peter huffed as he fell into the dining room chair, hearing it creak from the sudden weight, “How ungrateful!”

May put a filled plate in front of Peter, “Don’t slouch Peter. Who’s ungrateful?”

Ben and May finished filling the table and took their typical spots. They remained silent, letting Peter work through his anger enough until he spoke, “Some Seam kid!”

Ben looked shocked, “Seam kid?”

“Yes! He fell outside the store, so I went out and helped him.”

May smiled, “Well that’s very nice of you.”

“Yeah expect he went and threw it back in my face!”

“Well… what do you expect?” Ben muttered as he took a bite of his meal.

“Benjamin.” May snapped at him. Ben just shrugged and May clicked her tongue at him. She leaned over, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Sometimes that happens. People can be proud here in 12. They don’t like to ask for help and even if help is given, they don’t know how to thank you.”

Peter glared at his dish, arms firmly crossed over his chest, “Well, I hope his hands get infected.”

May sighed, “Peter…”

He still glared at his dish, muttering, “I cleaned them right, they won’t get infected.”

May shook her head, looking up at the ceiling, “What I wouldn’t give for some sanity around here.”

Peter’s glare slipped as a small laugh broke from him. Ben chuckled but tried to hide it behind his napkin. The rest of the meal passed with quiet talking of each other’s day before Peter bustled off to his bedroom, trying to work on whatever experiment had his attention.

~*~

On the day of the reaping, Peter was nervous. He tugged at his shirt that was a little too small, but didn’t need replacing yet. May and Ben were giving him space, but the apartment was silent. Peter had hoped that he would be exempted from the reaping this year. Apparently he was proven wrong. A knock stopped his fidgeting as May poked her head in, “We should really be going Peter.”

Peter numbly nodded and walked out. The trio walked out to see many of the other Merchant families walking out with their kids. Peter waited until he saw Gwen and quickly went to her side. Gwen gave him a smile and grabbed his hand. She leaned over and whispered, “You should only be in there twice, so the odds have to be in your favor.”

Peter nodded but didn’t speak. He worried that his year of luck was just going to keep getting worse and it was going to culminate with him going to the games. Gwen and Peter were separated and pushed through orientation. He lost sight of her but saw MJ as she was pushed into her spot. She gave Peter a nod that he returned before stepping into his line. After everyone lined up, the Square grew silent. Peter looked up to see a group of people come out and sit. One of the individual’s Peter recognized as 12’s only victor, Vanessa. Seeing her in person, Peter couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. His attention was drawn away by a man in a suit introducing a strangely dressed man. The strangely dressed man was clearly from District 1 with all the color that was splashed on his outfit. The man stumbled to the mic, bumping into it and nearly sending everything flying. No one laughed, but the tension among the crowd lessened by a hair.

The man spoke after tapping the mic, “So uh… Welcome to a happy hunger games. Of course, may the odds be ever in your favor. Before we can get to the meat and potatoes of why we are here, we have a video for your viewing pleasure.”

The man’s tone caused Peter to shiver as he turned his attention away from him. The video droned on, but it wasn’t anything new to Peter. He ignored it, instead turning his attention to the panel of people on the stage. Most of the people watched the video, but Vanessa was the only one glaring at it. He tilted his head, watching her expression shift between anger to resentment. The video ended and a loud clap echoed out of the speakers. His attention snapped back to the man, but he wasn’t listening to the man talk. The man moved to one of the bowls and pulled out a name.

A circle formed around the girl as tears started to form and roll down her cheeks. Peter tensed his jaw but watched the peacekeepers walk over and push her towards the stage. He felt sick to his stomach as he watched her stumble onto the stage. He watched her stand on the stage shaking, while the man walked over to the opposite bowl and pulled a name. Peter felt his whole body tense as he watched. The man seemed to move in slow motion as he walked back to the mic and called out a name. A name that wasn’t his. Peter’s nauseous feeling came back as he realized that someone else got pulled that only intensified when he heard a pained cry far behind him. He looked back to see the boy that he had seen earlier that month.

He watched the boy walk out of the circle that had formed, his body shaking as he took slow steps towards the stage. The boy walked onto the stage and stared out to the crowd, looking for someone.

“District 12, your tributes have been chosen.” The man spoke in his dry tone before the pair was ushered inside the hall, disappearing behind closed doors. The sound of the closing doors felt finite in a way that Peter had never felt before. The crowd quickly dispersed as children rushed to their families in relief. Peter dealt with being bumped and pushed as he ran back to May and Ben. He threw himself into their arms as they held each other. They stayed that way for a moment before Peter looked up to say something. May was watching the front of the hall with a pained expression. Peter followed her gaze, seeing a woman half carrying another inside.

“What’s wrong May?”

May shook her head, looking down at Peter with a sad smile, “Nothing to worry about right now dear. Let’s get home, hm? That’s enough excitement for now.”

~*~

After the excitement died from the reaping and the lead up to the games began, Peter desperately tried to avoid watching anything. May and Ben did their best to keep from watching when Peter was around. They never forced him to watch and supported him filling his time with anything else. He would always hear the gossip or wrap up whenever he wandered into the Hob. Peter found it hard to get people’s attention as the games went on. He heard about the initial bloodbath at the start but things started to slow down.

The first month of the games went by and Peter grew curious. It started with a few glimpses of a screen over May or Ben’s shoulder at home. They always had a running tally of the current survivors and Peter was stunned to see both of District 12’s tributes still alive. The second and third month came and Peter found himself joining people when they huddled around a screen. Side bets were muttered behind him, but he just intently watched as the tributes from District 12 survived. He silently hoped that one of them would live.

Upon the fourth month, everything was coming to a standstill within the District. People were taking longer breaks as a game had never gone on this long. Even the Peacekeepers found themselves watching instead of reprimanding the workers. Very few people were away from any screen, even Peter had gotten sucked into the insanity. Peter, May and Ben sat on their worn couch as they watched one of their tributes attempted to steal food. Peter let out a hiss when he watched her get swiped in the side. The girl let out a scream before bolting, clutching her bleeding side. Peter watched, snaking his hands into May and Ben’s hands as the girl ran, only to have the other tribute chase after her laughing. The screen kept cutting between the girl running and the menacing boy chasing after her. It then cut to 12’s male tribute who appeared on alert and moving to see what was going on.

They listened to the cruelty in the boy’s voice as he mocked the girl when she fell. Peter held his breath, waiting for the boy to stab and land the killing blow but his breath involuntarily left in a gasp when 12’s male tribute launched onto the boy. There was a bit of a struggle until 12’s male tribute stabbed the boy in the chest and the pair collapsed onto the ground. It was dead silent until a loud bang from the cannon sounded. The male tribute got up, stalking over the girl and the two were talking. Peter watched, unsure what the male tribute was going to do and if he was going to land a mercy blow.

Defying all thought, he knelt down and was trying to comfort her. The male looked over her wound and his pained expression was clear to everyone. Peter felt his heart drop as the male kept talking and the two tried to hold up a conversation. Besides him, Ben held a stoic face, while May had her hand over her mouth, tears flowing down her cheeks. The conversation slowed until the girl handed something over to the male. The male took it but when he tried to get a response, the girl was already gone. The male tipped his head back and sobbed, while Peter felt a few tears form. The cannon blasted while the two dead tributes flashed on screen. An anguished cry sounded throughout the silent 12.

The next month, late at night, while very few people were watching, a fire blazed through the arena. One tribute lost their life, while the other would never be the same. Throughout the rest of that month, brief clips of 12’s male tribute were repeated, but Peter saw a pattern. He had been watching carefully and the clips showed he had seen before. He kept it quiet, but as more days passed, it unnerved Peter. It wasn’t until the sixth month that new footage of 12’s tribute was shown.

He looked wild as the camera kept cutting to him racing through the forest. Peter was sitting at the edge of the seat. All too quickly, the camera cuts to the four other tributes as they huddle around the fire. Peter had a hard time feeling sympathy for them as they were bragging about their kills over the past few months. The male tribute from 1 was staring into the fire, while the female tribute from 1 was sleeping with her back to them. The two tributes from 2 were talking to themselves, bragging about their kills and what they were planning on doing with their fame.

It made Peter's stomach twist into knots. They all seemed so normal, like they were camping in the wilderness. The male tribute from 1 leaned forward, poking at the fire with their sword. The cameras stayed on them for a while even as a crashing sound echoed around them. The three awake tributes all turned towards the sound, but they couldn't see anything but darkness. The guarding tribute stood up and mumbled something to the others as he stalked into the distance. His receding shape disappeared thanks to the dark foliage. There were muted noises of someone walking and an annoyed shout but nothing otherwise. There was a palpable tension in the air as the two tributes watched their environment carefully.

Suddenly there was a brief sound of a scuffle before silence fell again. The two tributes were on their feet, ready to leap in after their ally if he needed their help. A cannon fire sounds through the air, causing both of them to jump. Peter wasn't sure if it was nerves or to arms, but he watched them both shout and race into the forest. The camera cuts briefly to the sleeping tribute who seemed to murmur out of frustration but still slept on.

The camera comes to as the two tributes come across the male tribute's body.

“Who the fuck is still out there?”

“Male from 12. What was his name?”

“Won't matter if he's dead. If he thinks he's going to get the better of us...”

Peter's hands clenched into the sofa's cushions as he scanned what he could of the scene. He couldn't see Wade and chose to ignore what the tributes were talking about in favor of trying to see him. The two nod to each other before going the opposite direction. The camera cuts between the two as they search for Wade. The camera cuts to one of the tributes as they try to walk carefully around the ground, unsure if there were traps set. The tension has increased as the tribute glances back to their sleeping ally. They glance behind them and then back to the fire as if they were debating leaving behind the other tribute.

A scream echoes, “RUN!”

Not needing to be told twice, the tributes races through the forest, desperate to get back to their ally. They muttered to themselves, “Wake her up and then we'll get him.”

Cannon fire sounds as the tribute stumbles over a root. They get up, panting from fear as they pulled themselves up, eyes focused on their ally. A sickening thud echoes as the tribute falls forward. A knife embedded into their spine. The tribute cries out as they pull themselves along the floor, desperate to get back to the fire. There is crunching of debris behind the tribute as they reach out to grab at the sleeping tribute. The tributes gasps, coughing up blood as a shape cuts into the camera.

The camera quickly cuts to another angle as Wade pulls out the knife only to plunge it into their neck. The female tribute rolls over to see Wade as another cannon sounds. Wade looks demonic as he stands next to the fire, covered in blood and a wild look in his eye. His features dramatically lit. Peter couldn't help himself as he leaned away from the holoscreen. Wade's blue eyes remained on the tribute as he rumbled out, “Did you sleep well?”

He paused as if the tribute would reply before continuing, “This would have been so much better if you were still asleep.”

The tribute screams as she tries to run away but Peter's eyes remain on Wade. He could see a faint bit of remorse pass over Wade's face before it hardened into a crazed expression. Wade clicks his tongue as he watches the tribute, “Always the hard way, why does no one accept what will happen?”

The camera cuts back to the tribute as she tries to slap herself awake but with little success. She kept stumbling until a large hand grabbed the tribute's hood. They let out a strangled noise before a knife is slammed into their neck. Peter looks away, listening to their gurgling breaths as she slowly dies. He hears a thud and then another cannon before a computerized voice speaks, “Ladies and Gentlemen, this year's winner from District 12. Wade Wilson.”

Peter spares a glance back at the screen to see the arena rapidly turning to day and Wade tilting his head up to the sky. The screen then cuts to two announcers talking about this year's games. They seem to be talking about how this is the longest record of a game since its creation but Peter doesn't listen. He sits there, watching them talk but all he could see was Wade's expression as the day set in. It was brief but he could swear he saw sorrow and relief.

~*~

The celebration of District 12’s tribute lasted for days before the tribute even came back. Supplies were trained in from the Capital to gift the whole district, but it sat funny in Peter’s stomach. It felt disgusting to celebrate the death of 23 kids and lavish the last remaining survivor. Peter could only imagine what kind of problems the tribute had. He joined everyone in watching the interviews of Wade and he only grew more concerned. He felt like he was the only one to see what Wade was desperately trying to hide. Peter wasn’t sure what he would be able to do, but perhaps he could help in some way. His parents had tried to do the same with their experiments, perhaps Peter could help Wade.

When the train pulled into District 12’s station, the large crowd waited with bated breath. Vanessa walked out and explained that Wade was taking his time, gathering his things. Time ticked by before Wade finally emerged and the crowd exploded with cheers. Peter was jostled about, bumping into different individuals who paid him no mind. The crowd settled slightly for the mayor to speak before announcing for the celebration to continue. Peter tried to keep an eye out for Wade, but as the victor moved through the crowd he was bombarded. He pushed forward, opening his mouth to call out for him before Vanessa grabbed him. They spoke lowly until she pulled him away from the celebration. He watched them disappear, suddenly realizing that there were probably people waiting to see him. Peter shook his head at himself before shuffling back to Ben and May.

Ben was happily chatting with a few of his Hob friends, while May was quietly listening. She glanced over to see Peter meekly join them and she offered him a smile, “Where did you run off to in a hurry?”

“Nowhere.” Peter replied.

“Trying to see the new victor?”

“No. There were too many people anyways. It’s chaos here, can I go home?” Peter looked up at May with urgency in his eyes. May looked down at him and sighed. There wasn’t much she could do from stopping him, so she nodded back to the direction of the Merchant Section. Peter bolted at the first movement of acknowledgement. She clicked her tongue as she watched him disappear into the crowds.

~*~

After the hype of a victor died down, things started to go back to some semblance of normal. The merger provisions sent from the Capital helped a few people for a short amount of time, before struggle set it once again. May and Ben would never talk about it in front of him, but he had gotten very good at listening to their conversations. Whenever it was brought up in front of it, it would switch to a code. It was like a fun puzzle that proved to have a difficult to swallow outcome. Food was getting harder to provide for, even with May’s shop and Ben’s Hob connections. Ben was thinking of starting to work in the mines, which had almost led to a screaming match. Peter learned very quickly that if he was being asked to go play, it was for them to talk freely without worrying about him. It didn’t do much good because he worried none-the-less.

While he was out in the forest with Gwen and MJ, the pair talking among themselves. Peter sat beneath a tall tree, looking up at the leaves blowing in the breeze, “Why is life so hard here?”

He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but he realized what he said when the girls’ voices went silent. Peter flushed when he looked over to the girls staring at him with widely ranged expressions. MJ held a look of indignation and understanding while Gwen looked at him with sorrow. Gwen spoke first, “Because the Capital forgets about us being so far away. There’s a reason why the closer districts are better.”

“What Gwen’s trying to say is the Capital hates us. Pretty sure if they could, it’d only be a Hunger Games of us poor districts.” MJ snorted, while Gwen shot her a heated expression. Peter had gotten used to that and even cracked a small smile before letting it slip away. He tugged at his ragged shirt, quietly debating in his head. This is what his parents meant when they talked about their rebellion. His father was from 12 and had to know what kind of struggles happened. Peter hummed in reply but the conversation died.

The remainder of that day was spent quietly before the sun started disappearing behind the mountains. MJ was about to leave before Peter stopped her. Gwen looked curiously between the two before Peter offered her a smile and said he would catch up in a second. Peter watched Gwen leave until he felt she was out of earshot and he turned to MJ. MJ was looking at him suspiciously, “Alright, what’s this about?”

“Where do I go if I need to get food for my family?” Peter kept his voice pitched low, paranoid that someone would hear him.

MJ looked at him like he was crazy, “A tesserae? Peter, are you crazy?! You know what that does, right?”

“Uh…”

MJ swore under her breath, slapping the palm of her hand against her forehead, “That puts your name in again for the games! You just add onto your likelihood of being called.”

“How many times have you done it?”

MJ startles back as though she was slapped before she turns a glare onto him, “Every year since I could. But things can’t be that bad, Gwen hasn’t said that the merchants are struggling.”

“I’m not talking about the merchants MJ. I’m talking about Ben and May. They’re struggling trying to feed me and I don’t want to burden them.” Peter put his hand on his chest to emphasize his meaning. MJ went quiet, shaking her head.

She let out a sigh, “I’ll tell you, but I don’t like it.” She paused for a moment, “Go to city hall and there’ll be someone to get that for you.”

Peter nodded, “Thanks MJ.” She waved him off before leaving without saying another word. Peter trotted after Gwen as the pair quietly walked back home.

~*~

A couple of months before the games, May had bustled Peter up in a jacket, silently taking him out with her. Peter asked where they were going but May kept silent. He watched them walk through the Square and passed the Hob before they walked into Victor’s Row. Peter had never been here and was almost sad that even this place looked as rundown as the rest of the district. There was a pillar of smoke coming from behind a house. They walked behind the house and saw a fire going with only a handful of people around it. A woman laid on the fire, quickly becoming engulfed in it, while the others stood a safe distance away.

May left Peter to stand where he was as she joined an elderly black woman. Peter watched as the two quietly talked as Peter looked at the rest of the crowd. Vanessa was standing the furthest back, watching the fire with a blank look on her face. A man was standing nearby and he looked like the speaker that had announced the tributes for the last games. Standing closest to the fire was Wade and he was keeping his distance from everyone.

A rumble sounded in the heavy clouds overhead but Peter pushed forward. He stood next to Wade but kept quiet. The crackling roar of the fire nearly masked the occasional sniff or a shaky breath. Peter wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but when the fire finished its terrible work, he glanced around to see that only May and the elderly woman remained. May pushed forward and silently brought the ashes in an urn, while the other woman came to Wade’s other side.

“I’m sorry Wade.” The other woman spoke with a small rasp, “She’s not in pain anymore.”

Wade’s head snapped to the woman as he growled, “Fuck off Al.”

Peter watched Wade brush passed her and took the urn from May before stomping off. May let out a sigh, speaking to the woman, “I’m sorry, I did everything I could.”

Al waved her hand, “Don’t worry too much, May. There wasn’t much that could be done for her now. You did the best you could with what you had, don’t let that boy make you think otherwise.”

They left shortly after and it was silent the rest of the day.

As the games came closer, Peter worried about his name being in for an extra time on top of his additional three. To help take his mind off it, he wandered through the district being sure to stay clear of the peacekeepers and any other trouble. The quiet crunch of underbrush filled Peter’s ears as he walked. He had no destination, just let his feet take him wherever they felt they wanted to go.

Quiet voices broke Peter out of his thoughts as he stopped. He looked around, thinking that he could see someone, but no one was around. He took a few steps forward but the voices remained at their same tone. Curiosity got the better of Peter as he tried to find and follow where the voices might be coming from.

It took a few stumbles and a bunch of twigs and leaves in Peter’s hair but he eventually walked onto Wade talking with a woman. Wade’s shoulders were hunched as he stammered through some words, “I-i…”

The woman looked up at Wade, tears falling down her cheek as she remained silent, waiting patiently for him to speak.

Wade took a breath but his posture remained the same; defeated and sorrowful, “I promised her… that I would return this to you.”

A glint of light shined off a necklace as Wade held it out in his palm for the woman to grab. A small gasp answered Wade as the woman shakingly reached and took it from him. She looked over the necklace before looking up at Wade, “Thank you. I saw what you did for her in the games.”

Wade flinched back, taking a few steps away from the woman and letting his hand fall, “I-”

“You stayed with her when no one else did. Thank you for your kindness in her last moments. Thank you for being there.” The woman’s voice quivered before she pushed forward, giving Wade a hug. Wade stood stock still and Peter smiled as he watched from behind a tree. He turned and quietly left, not seeing Wade push the woman and offer some kind of apology before leaving himself.

When the games came up, Peter felt relieved when his name wasn’t called. Perhaps the odds are in his favor.

~*~

With each year, the games became a constant source of worry for Peter. With each tesserae he got, it just added onto his anxiety. The year of the 45th Hunger Games, Peter was thankful to only have gotten one tesserae, which only meant one additional entry. The breath of relief that he breathed out when his name wasn’t called, made Peter promise himself never to get the tesserae again.

The following year, he broke his promise when work wasn’t panning out well for Ben or May. It was almost too simple to just sign his name away in exchange for food and oil. As he walked back to the shop, carrying the provisions, they felt like they were getting heavier and heavier. By the time he got back to the shop, it felt like the weight of the world was in his hands. Stumbling up the stairs into the apartment, he caught the tail end of an argument. May and Ben looked up to see Peter walking in, carrying his provisions like they were made of lead. May’s face fell into sorrow as Ben shook his head and walked off to their bedroom.

“Peter…” May’s voice was shaking as Peter dragged their food onto the kitchen table. He let his hand stay there for a moment before letting it fall as he walked away, disappearing into his bedroom.

That year Peter was once again lucky in not being called, but he felt like his luck was going to run out.

As if he predicted it, the next year was hard on the Parker family. Working in the mines was getting harder for Ben and the coal was starting to affect his lungs. May was telling Ben that he was too old to be working in the mines and it would kill him if he kept going in. Ben would counter that they needed the additional to feed everyone. The two would go back and forth for hours until one of them got sick of the other and stormed off. It kept Peter up at night feeling like he was to blame for the added stress.

He had talked with May about it once but she only tutted at him and told him it had always been a problem. Peter didn’t truly believe her but he did what he could to help ease the strain. Getting tesseraes at this point felt like a normal part of his life now, his name would go in one additional time and he would get enough food to help his family.

As the year progressed, Ben’s lungs were getting worse until May forbid him from ever setting foot back in the mines. She tried to ease his cough as best as she could but from the furrow of her brow, Peter knew there wasn’t much she could do for him. Gwen and MJ tried to help keep his mind off home troubles the best they could, but it was never far from his mind.

Not getting pulled that year almost felt like a gift for all the suffering of the year. He was relieved but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel that he was testing fate.

Without Ben’s income, things started to get meeker within the household. When he was feeling well enough to wander out of the house, he went to barter with his Hob connections. They managed to squeak by each month, but Peter couldn’t stand to see them both suffer to keep him fed. On his way home from city hall, carrying the provisions, MJ and Gwen were standing in the road. Peter stopped, glancing between the two girls as they stared at him, “Uhh… what’s going on?”

“We have a question.”

“Ooo-kay, so?” Peter switched his hold of provision so his arms didn’t grow tired. MJ walked in front of him and stared at him for an awkwardly long time before she leaned forward and planted a quick peck on Peter’s lips. Peter’s jaw dropped as MJ stepped back, wiping at her mouth. Gwen stepped forward as MJ stepped back.

“Uuhhh… What is going on?” Peter stammered as a flush grew on his cheeks. Instead of an answer Gwen leaned forward and put a peck on Peter’s lips. Peter withdrew this time, stumbling backwards, “What is going on?!”

Peter would never admit that his voice squeaked but MJ and Gwen would happily said it. The girls shared a look before laughing and smiling. Peter’s flush darkened, “Well I’m glad you got a kick out of this, but was there a reason?”

“Oh we were just testing something.” MJ said with no small amount of smug.

“Great, glad that I could be a subject to your two whims, but I have to get this stuff home.” Peter grumbled.

Gwen covered up a giggle, “Sorry Peter, say hi to May and Ben for me.”

Peter brushed by the girls, waving a hand in acknowledgement.

Peter had to go to city hall at least 2 more times before the games came up. When it came time for the tributes, he didn’t feel anything when his name wasn’t called. He didn’t feel relief but a sick satisfaction that he wasn’t called.

On Peter’s 18th birthday, May and Ben splurged for a gift. A wiring kit with several missing pieces but a luxury that he hadn’t seen since he lived in district 3. He treasured it and may had to wipe away a couple of tears. Thanks to their gift, he was able to fix a few different electronics for the people at the Hob. They paid him in items that Peter was able to trade for food and oil. It still wasn’t enough to completely help them but it was enough to help them get by. With Peter’s tesserae as addition, they were able to make it through the year without too much trouble.

As the hunger games came closer, Peter counted down the days until it was the day of the reaping. He scrubbed himself clean in the lukewarm bath, mentally preparing himself. A soft knock at the door broke Peter out of his thoughts, “Peter, you need to get ready.”

He sighed before getting out of the tub, drying himself off and putting on the clothes that May had laid out for him. He looked in the mirror, tugging at the oversized shirt that was clearly one that Ben was too big for now. He stared at his own reflection, “Last year Peter. This is the last year. You only did one tesserae this year.”

He took in a deep breath before blowing it out, fogging up the glass, “Your name is only in 8 times. You can do it.”

Peter took another breath before he straightened out his shirt one last time before coming out of the bathroom. Ben was coughing into a rag and May was busying herself by gathering a drink for Ben. The moment Peter walked out, Ben and May looked up at him with a pained smile on their face. Ben walked forward, stuffing his rag into his pocket as he pulled Peter into a hug, “You’ve grown up so fast my boy.”

Peter felt tears start to form but he rapidly blinked to get rid of them but instead buried his face into Ben’s shoulder. Ben tightened his grip before patting his back and letting him go, “We’ll have to celebrate the end of the games for you when we get home.”

“We don’t have an-” Peter started but Ben waved his hand, “Don’t worry. I’ve been saving something up for this moment.”

“Benjamin, you better not be suggesting what I think you are.” May turned a playful glare at the pair of them. Ben just laughed with a rasp before waving her off. They walked out, joining the growing crowd as they walked silently to the Hall of Justice. He spotted MJ and Gwen standing near each other on their side. The pair nodded to Peter before they turned their attention to the stage.

The mayor, Vanessa and Wade walked out, each of them taking their seat. Vanessa kept shooting different intense glares at Wade but Wade didn’t pay her any mind. It looked like he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to be concerned for Vanessa or anyone else. Peter watched him, not listening to the announcer as he began his practiced speech or the video that played after.

The announcer walked over to the bowl in front of Vanessa, dipping his hand in and pulled out a name, “For the ladies…” He paused to rip open the piece of paper, “Gwen Stacy.”

Peter’s gaze snapped from Wade to Gwen as he watched Gwen’s face remained stoic while MJ’s face fell. Peter felt his heart stop at Gwen walked to the peacekeepers who led her to the stage. Peter followed Gwen as she walked onto the stage, standing beside the announcer. His face fell as he stared at Gwen, feeling helpless. He could hear MJ cry from across the aisle and that made him feel worse. There had to be something that he could do. Anything.

“For the gentlemen...” The greasy announcer walked in front of Wade, pulling a piece of paper from the bowl. Stepping back in front of the microphone, unfolding the slip before clearing his voice to say, “Peter Parker!”


	3. Questions

Peter's heart stopped. His name had been called and vaguely he could hear a gasp from behind him, but he didn't want to listen to it. He knew that it was May or Ben. He remained where he stood while a circle formed around him. The space made around him while his peers stared at him felt like a cavern. Faintly, he could hear the dry voice of the speaker calling for him to come up, but he was frozen in place. Peter's gaze was on the people on stage; Gwen and Vanessa looked remorseful to him, while Wade held an expression of disinterest.

A hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him from his internal screaming. His head snapped to look up at the face of a peacekeeper. They walked him from his spot and encased him as they marched him to the stage. The speaker looked annoyed but once Peter had joined them on stage, his nasally voice spoke out, “District 12, your tributes for the 49th Hunger Games.”

The crowd was silent while the two were pushed into the Hall of Justice. Peter had reached out, grabbing Gwen's hand to give her a brief squeeze. She gave him a watery smile before they were separated into two rooms for their goodbyes. Peter stood in the room that was decorated in the typical style of District 12. Everything was rundown and worn but still seemed high class. It was jarring to see it and if he had been here on his own without the implications of the games, Peter might have been willing to explore. For now, Peter stood in the middle of the room, mournfully looking out the window. There were bars on the windows and the only thought running through his head was ' _ Why had I never noticed how much of a jail the Hall of Justice was? _ '

He let a shaky sigh out as he began to list off all his regrets. It felt like the light from outside was being drained as the floor came closer to him. The door opened and distantly he could hear voices calling to him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Hands were pulling on him, pulling him away from his crouched fetal position on the floor. A set of hands were holding his cheeks and that was when he saw May's blue eyes. He locked eyes with her but he couldn't see clearly as the tears started to overflow.

“Oh Peter...” Aunt May's voice finally broke through as she pulled him into her body, giving him a tight hug. He buried his face into her shoulder, clinging to her as if she could make everything go away. Ben's hand squeezed Peter's shoulder as the family spent a quiet moment letting everything catch up with them. Peter was the first to pull away, rubbing at his face, while Ben held onto May who was still quietly crying.

“You're smart Peter. You've survived worse and you're a surprise for them. A kid from District 12 who is really from 3.” Ben looked stoically at him, “But be ready for surprises yourself. This close to a quarterly game will make it crazier.”

Peter nodded as he glanced between them, “I'll do my best.”

May offered Peter a smile, “We know you will. You've always made us proud Peter. Don't underestimate anyone, keep a level head and you come home.”

Peter nodded as a knock echoed through the room. May and Ben glanced back at the door before they pulled Peter in for another hug. May kissed him on the forehead while Ben said, “Always keep them guessing.”

The door opened as the pair pulled away from Peter as the peacekeeper walked them out. The door closed firmly behind him as Peter stared at where May and Ben once were. Silence within the room was broken by Peter's uneven breathing. He wandered over to a chair as he waited to see if anymore people would be coming to see him.

The door burst open as a disheveled MJ glared at Peter with red rimmed eyes. Peter startled himself into standing up before MJ launched herself at him, clinging to him as though he was her last lifeline. Peter was stunned and unsure how to respond as he watched the guarding peacekeeper close the door. He could feel wetness bleeding through his shirt as he put his arms around her, hugging her. She was mumbling something but Peter couldn't make it out, whatever words she was saying were getting lost in the worn fabric of his shirt. They stayed that way for a time before she pulled away and glared at him again.

He removed his hands, holding them up in a surrender as he stared down at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to it.

“You both have to come back.” Her voice tried to be firm but wobbled from unease. Peter knew MJ well enough to know that the wobble was probably from her crying when she saw Gwen. Peter knew that wouldn't be able to happen but he nodded. MJ clenched her jaw and nodded at him, “Good.”

They fell into silence until Peter broke it, “Can you keep an eye on Ben and May for me?” MJ looked at him like he was insane but Peter pushed forward, “I know Ben can be a hard ass about Seam kids, but... in case, could you just make sure they stay okay? I don't want Ben going back into the mines or May worrying herself sick.”

“I could do that.” MJ gave him a weak smile before giving him another hug, “Stay safe Pete.” She pulled away before Peter was able to hug her back and punched him in the arm. Peter winced, rubbing at his soon to be bruise and watched her walk out. Peter spent the remainder of his time sitting in the overstuffed chair, staring out as the sun begins to set. No one else came to visit him, the peacekeeper had given him some letters from a variety of people from the Hob. Each one had been opened, which made Peter sigh, but he wasn't going to read those now. He held him close as he was marched out of the Hall and towards the train.

Gwen was holding his hand, her eyes puffy from tears as they offered each other silent reassurance. The last time Peter had been on a train was to leave his home to make his way in a new one. Now he was leaving home, not sure if he would ever return.

The train seemed so lascivious compared to what Peter considered the norm in 12. Gwen gasped as she took in the richness, but Peter felt hollow. They were alone in the train car, left to stare at the plates of food and the luxury of the Capital. The pair was hesitant to move and break what seemed like an illusion but the lurch of the train caused them to stumble forward. Peter moved over to a seat, staring out the window as he watched them slowly pull from the station.

“It's strange, huh?” Gwen's quiet voice filled the car. Peter looked up at her as she stood next to him for a moment before sliding in to share the large chair with Peter. He didn't fight her as he slid over, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to be alone at the moment anyway.  
  


~*~   
  


Wade wandered into the entrance hall of his home, humming to himself. The house had become a lot quieter since Hailey's passing but there was always some amount of noise from Al's shuffling. A throat clearing sounded out. Wade's humming immediately stopped as he sighed, thinking that the house would be completely silent if not for the old woman who was somehow still alive.

“Somethin' got you in a good mood.” Al dryly commented as she shuffled around the sparse living room.

Wade bit on his lip, “Oh yeah, just the beauty of living another day you know.” His tone dripped with sarcasm and the dead look from Al told him that it was clearly heard. She clicked her tongue and waved at him, “Get out of here before your merriment wipes onto me.”

“You know you'll miss me and remember if you're going to die while I'm gone. Go outside. I already can't get rid of the smell of old lady pants in here.” Wade didn't wait for a response as he walked outside, a thud on the door gave him the reply he was after. The cooling air around him alleviates some of the sore throbbing of his scars, especially after having sat in the sun for a majority of the day. He rubbed at his eyes as he let out a sigh, hunching over his shoulders to give himself a moment of unease.

[Did you see those scared little rabbits?]

{Do you think they will go squish?}

An exhausted whine involuntarily left Wade as he pushed harder into his eyes as he weakly replied, “Please go away...”

[Oh no, we're here forever. Don't try to fight us.]

{We all know that you want to know if they go squish. Just like all those other kids you killed}

[They became pretty little stains on the arena floors.]

“Fuck off!” Wade roared out as he noticed an unamused Nessa in front of him. She had her arms crossed and a glare forming before she nodded to the exit. He clenched his jaw as he stormed ahead of her, hoping that she'd just leave him alone after whatever argument they had earlier. Even if he had wanted to figure out what she had yelled at him about, he couldn't remember. He could hear her footsteps behind him, but she remained eerily silent. It was starting to grade on his nerves.

They made their way out of Victor's Row and through the back roads of the Hob. It was silent as families spent time together to revel in their children not being picked. The clicking of Nessa's heels against the uneven stone ticked away in Wade's head.

[Just kill her!]

{Make her bleed!}

[She's being so annoying. End her]

Wade chewed on his lip, growling lowly at himself as he tried to ignore the increasing loudness of the voices. Nessa continued to say nothing, walking calmly behind him. With each step, Wade's temper flared until he finally stopped, whirling around and shouted, “Will you fucking just say it already?!”

She looked unimpressed at him, her arms crossed over her chest. One eyebrow quirked up as she looked up at his reddening face, “You know that works on just about everyone but me.”

“Oh my... Will you just fucking say whatever you've been keeping on your chest? You're driving me crazy.”

“I doubt that. You did that yourself.” She scoffs as she brushes past him.

“Vanessa.” Wade growled after her.

“I'm not afraid of you Wade. You know who is going to be afraid? Those two kids that are sitting on the train.” She shoots a glare back at him, “So do everyone a favor and keep your fat mouth shut.”

[Let me kill her]

{No! Me!}

Wade gritted his teeth as his lip curled, flashing brilliantly white teeth, “It's good they're afraid. They'll be dead soon.”

It was Wade's turn to brush past a now aggravated Nessa as he stormed onto the slow moving train. The door gave way with a short shrill screech before Wade stood in the entrance of the traveling car. He could feel the presence of Vanessa's anger coming onto his back but he was watching the two backs that were facing him.

“Wade Wilson! You fucking pigheaded assho-!” Vanessa pushed into his unmoving back before she looked at the two pairs of eyes that locked in on her.

Wade couldn't help but smirk at her, snarking at her in a sing-song voice, “Nice entrance there Nessa.”

Nessa glared at him, mouthing 'Fuck you' as she pushed past him and sat in the chair across from the two tributes. She let out a sigh, while Wade pulled the door shut as the train was picking up speed.

“I know we heard your names when they were pulled but why don't we have a better introduction.” Nessa let her anger slip away as she offered the two tributes a smile.

“I'm Gwen and this is Peter.” The blonde haired girl spoke. Wade could see a slight tremor to her body as she leaned against Peter. He huffed as he leaned against an archway and watched.

Nessa nodded to the pair, “I won't say it's nice to meet you since I know it would be better to speak under different circumstances. But we will do the best that we can to help you both.” As she said the word 'we', her gaze hardened as she looked over their heads at Wade. Wade rolled his eyes and turned his gaze to the rushing world outside.

“I'm Vanessa but you can call me Nessa. And the lump behind you both is Wade.” She gestured halfheartedly behind them as they turned to look at Wade. Wade felt what hair he had left stand on edge as he looked between the two. Wade turned his head to grunt a hello to the pair as he saw their eyes boring in on him. Gwen had a small amount of fear in her eyes that she tried to hide behind acceptance, while Peter looked at Wade with an emotion that he wasn't quite sure what to do with; understanding. He scoffed as he pushed off the archway, walking by the trio, “I'm going to go fuck with Weasel.”

He was already leaving the car when he heard a brief sigh from Nessa. The door slid shut behind him as he walked down the empty hall. When he knew that no one could see him, he let himself collapse onto the ground, shaking as he clutched at his arms, “I can't do this again.”

[Oh but we can.]

{Yes, did you see their faces? I can't wait to see them splat}

[Pretty little stains]

Wade shook his head, “No. I can't. Not again.” His grip on his arms pulled on the scars, causing the dull throb to grow stronger.

{Everyone winds up pretty little stains sooner or later}

[It's a shame that we don't get a chance to make those stains]

{We make do. We will doom these ones too.}

~*~

When the two victors had joined them, it wasn't the entrance that Peter had been expecting. The train had already started to move but yet they showed up as the train was departing. Seeing Wade up close reminded Peter of everything that the man had lost and everything that Peter could lose. Nessa had come to talk with them but he truthfully wasn't listening. It was only when Wade left the car and Nessa let go of a sigh that Peter felt his ears properly working again.

“I'm sorry about that one. I'll be pulling double duty for you both. I'd just avoid Wade.” Nessa leaned forward, her elbows perched on her knees.

Gwen nodded while Peter couldn't stop his mouth, “Why?

Nessa looked over to Peter and offered him a strained smile, “He hasn't been right since he came back from his games. It's something that both of you will need to accept when either of you come back. You will lose things that you didn't know was a part of you. So just try not to talk to him if you can. I can answer your questions.”

Peter let his gaze drift to the door that Wade left him as the conversation died. Gwen clutched Peter's hand and he could feel her shake as he pulled his attention back to Gwen. He gave her a smile as tears started to well up in her eyes. Nessa cleared her throat as she leaned back, “I'll give you guys some time to come to terms with everything. If you feel up to eating, help yourself.”

Nessa left without either of the two seeing her leave. Gwen was staring at the floor while Peter was looking at their hands. He wasn't sure what to say because everything that popped into his head seemed lackluster or a lie. Peter opted instead to squeeze Gwen's hand which she kindly returned. The pair sat in relative silence as the train rushed through Panem. Peter looked out to the rushing world, seeing the dark trees that were racing by.

“Peter.” Gwen's soft voice broke through the silence like it was a bomb. He quickly turned his attention back to her.

“I’m scared too Gwen.” He admitted quietly. He felt a lump form in his throat as he cleared his throat, “I… I don’t want to die but we have people that we both want to see again. So, I don’t think we really have that option. I don’t want to face you in that arena Gwen. I hate that life seems to get a kick out of laughing at me.” Peter could feel tears starting to form in his eyes. He let go of Gwen’s hand and rubbed futility at his eyes to try and prevent the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

“Could we stick together during the games?” Gwen’s voice caused Peter to pull away from rubbing at his face. He couldn’t look at her but he nodded, trying not to think about what will be forced to happen if they were the last two to make it to the end. While his mind offered worst case scenarios, Gwen’s weight left Peter’s side as she wandered over to the table of food. Peter didn't look up to follow where Gwen moved, but instead let his eyes follow the blurred landscape outside. He wished all of this had been a bad nightmare, but he knew he was awake. He wished his parents were still alive. He could use their advice, but he knew that he was glad they weren't alive to see him die in the one thing they were trying to stop.

Peter let a sigh escape as he pulled his legs close to his chest, refusing to look anywhere by the window.

~*~

Vanessa's heels clacked against the carpet runner and it felt like a ticking clock in Wade's mind. He knew that he needed to get up and appear fine, but his body refused to move.

[So weak]

{How pathetic. You should have died in those games}

[Literally anyone deserves to still be alive compared to you]

Wade wanted to scream but it came out a whimper as his hands gripped tighter into his scars. The heels stopped right in front of him as Vanessa let out a sigh, “Oh Wade...”

The sincere tone made Wade flinch when he felt soft but firm hands grip onto his, pulling them away from causing any damage to himself. She clicked her tongue as she scolded him, “Why do you have to be so difficult? If you'd just talk to me, this wouldn't keep happening.”

He felt her try to ease his hands away and there was a little give, but not as much as Vanessa seemed to want with the frustrated sigh that followed, “Work with me here Wade.”

Wade felt Vanessa's hands leave his hands only to loop under his arms and pulled him away from the floor. Wade was dead weight against Vanessa's side as she stumbled to drag him to his room. She grunted and muttered but he couldn't hear her anymore. He was wallowing too deeply in his own thoughts to worry about others.

[Why are you such a useless thing?]

{How could you have been the one to survive?}

[You take up so much space when there should be someone else in your place]

{Maybe your dad should have cut a little deeper}

[Or a bomb could have blown you to nothingness]

He felt some soft beneath him as Vanessa all but threw him onto his bed. She sighed, shaking her head, “I can't babysit you Wade and help those kids survive.”

He didn't hear her leave nor the voices return as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Wade wasn't sure how long he slept and was almost thankful that he didn't dream, but he jolted awake and sat up too quickly. He grunted when he felt his body protested the sudden movement as he took in the environment around him. He was not in the train car that he collapsed in and he was somehow in a bed. He tried to piece together what had happened but came up with a blank. That wasn't something new in Wade's life, although he didn't like it. He hated it when he lost his lucidness and came up with blanks in his memory. He worried about what he said or did, and he knew that it was going to dig him deeper into a hole.

Wade waited for his body to not protest when he glanced down and saw the projection was still on. He groaned as he unhooked the bracelet and set it off to the side. He got up from his bed and purposely avoided looking in the mirrors as he went into the adjoining bathroom to get ready. The windows outside were barely showing any light and the trees were still casting dark shadows. Wade kept himself busy as he rubbed lotion onto the scars as they ached. He kept his gaze downcasted so he didn't have to face the reality of looking into the mirror in front of him. He could still see himself out of the corner of his eye and if he started to push lotion harder into his skin, no one would know.

Leaving the bathroom like it was on fire, Wade quickly dressed in breezy clothing. Death had been kind to him and designed him clothing that would allow his skin to breath and not chafe against his now tender skin. A beep from the end table alerted him that the bracelet was back to charge. He slapped it back on, hiding it beneath his sleeves as he finally looked at the floor length mirror in the room. The tans and browns of the outfit made his blue eyes and blonde hair pop, but it was the unmarked skin that Wade watched. He looked every day in anticipation for the bracelet to give out or the projection to fade and let the world finally see what the games did. He clenched his jaw as his uncertain gaze hardened.

[Oh come now... You know they wouldn't let you scare the world]

{No one should have to see your ugly face}

He abruptly turned and walked away from his room, heading towards the dining car. These moments of quiet were fleeting when it came to the annual games. These were the only moments where Wade could try and forget what he was doing on the train and the reality of having to see two more kids die. No one was awake. Peacekeepers were in their closed stations, keeping hidden from the victors and the new tributes. Wade had gotten into quite a bit of trouble when he snuck into one of their monitoring rooms. He was able to see the other districts briefly. The flashing images were enough to remind Wade that many of the other districts were trying to fight and most with little success.

Stalking through the hallway and the different cars, Wade watched as the sun slowly began to poke over the forests and hills outside. He paused for a moment to watch, relishing in the few quiet moments that he would have before the chaos.

[Can't hide forever]

Wade clenched his hands into fists as he ripped his gaze away from the window and stormed through the remaining cars in silence. Making it to the dining car, he watched the tongueless servants quietly move around and set up the various foods for breakfast. He moved quietly until he sat in one of the overstuffed chairs. There was a small clatter from one of the servants setting down a dish too fast when they realized that he was there. Wade noticed them shivering before he waved a hand, “Ignore me.”

They watched him, afraid that he would lash out at them before ever so slowly going back to the world. He let out a sigh as he rubbed his forehead, trying to fight off a growing headache.

[Did you know you could have ended up just like them?]

{Tongueless. I'm sure you'd still end up scarred.}

[Wouldn't that be a life? I bet they still would have thrown you in the games anyways.]

{Maybe you would have done the world a favor and died then.}

He growled at him, moving his hands to cover his face. His hands remained where they were until he felt another pair of hands pull them away. Vanessa stood in front of him, a permanent look of frustration on her face as she let his hands fall. He hardened his gaze as he turned a glare on her, “What do you want?”

“Dark circles make you look like shit.”

Wade rolled his eyes, “Are we starting before the sun's in the sky now?”

“What time do you think it is Wade?” Her snarky question made Wade look outside, seeing the sun was well into the sky. When he didn't respond, Vanessa pushed him to a chair and forced him to sit down, “Eat.”

“Yes mom.” Wade's voice dripped with sarcasm as he started to shovel different foods onto his plate. Vanessa sat across from him, silently filling her plate. Weasel joined them shortly after, sitting next to Wade and offered a grunt as a good morning to both. Wade smirked over at him, “At least someone is pleasant in the morning.”

Vanessa remained silent as she pointedly focused on her food. Weasel looked at Wade with an eyebrow raised, “Who shit in your Wheaties?”

“The world, my friend. The world.” Wade offered a forced smile as he shoved an overly large bite of eggs into his mouth. Weasel sneered at him but made a show of moving his plate further from Wade. He only smirked at the oily man as he obnoxiously chewed.

After a short time of Wade bothering Weasel and chewing loudly, Vanessa stabbed her fork into the table as she turns a glare at him, “Must you do this so early in the fucking morning?”

“Oh I don't know. My ma always said the early bird catches the worm.”

“I'm sure she'd be so proud of you right now.” She snapped at him.

Wade's forced smile shifted into something more sinister as he grabbed his knife, running his thumb over the sharp edge, “What was that Nessa?” His heated gaze remained locked on her.

Nessa kept her glare locked on him as she started to stand up, “I know you heard me perfectly well but if you really want me to say it again.” She started to lean forward as she spoke, “Your mother would be so proud of you right now.”

Wade's smile evaporated as he snarled at her, standing up in a fury, knocking everything around him over. His chair flung backwards, colliding into the train car wall. The meekest squeak responded as Wade, Nessa and Weasel looked over to see Gwen and Peter standing in awe of the chaos in front of them.

Wade gripped the knife tightly in his hand, the cool metal rapidly warming as he watched the two tribute stare at them. Nessa was quicker to calm as she brushed herself off, gesturing for them to join the meal. They shared a look of uncertainty between each other before Peter took in a deep breath and bravely walked over to sit next to Weasel. Gwen was a little more hesitant but joined Nessa's side, glancing at Wade who was still standing with a knife.

“Sit down Wade. You look like an idiot.” Nessa snapped at him with a faux calm expression. Her eyes had a fire that only told of a fight for them later. Wade curled his lip as he suppressed a growl.

{Kill her}

[You have the knife. How easy would it be just to throw it at her and end it all]

{Do it!}

He could feel the tremble starting in his clenched hand as he fought with the instinct to bring harm to Nessa. He didn't really want to do that, or maybe he did. He couldn't tell anymore. After a tense moment, he flung the knife into the table with the blade sinking into the wood before he stormed out of the car.

[Pathetic.]

~*~

Peter watched Wade intently. The high tension in the room hung over everyone after Wade stormed out or at least he thought so. He spared a glance over to Gwen who was meekly poking at some of the food on the table. He kicked her in the shin which got him a glare but a small smile as well. The speaker was munching on his food, seemingly relieved that he was being left alone to eat in peace. Peter glanced over to Vanessa who was wearing a frown as she glared at where Wade left.

Peter glanced down at the food and his empty plate before clearing his throat, “So uh... Tips for the games?”

The speaker snorted whereas Vanessa finally stopped glaring at the door and turned her attention to Peter with a softer look, “Of course. We... I need to get you ready for the games. We'll make a victor out of one of you two.”

Both tributes flinched as Peter was trying desperately not to think of an outcome where one of them didn't come back. A deafening silence fell over the group, none of them sure how to break it or not wanting to start into the conversation. The soft sounds of food being eaten and utensils hitting porcelain plates filled the train car.

“It's like a fucking morgue in here and not a single one of you is dead.” The speaker grumbled as he pushed away his plate and stalked out of the car. Peter glanced to watch his retreat before looking back at Vanessa who seemed to hold some anger in her eyes. He cleared his throat, “So... tips?”

She sighed, “Right. Food and water is always the most important thing. If you can't find a steady source for either, then I hope you're fast enough to sneak some from those who do.”

Gwen looked up from her food, “What about shelter?”

Vanessa put her fork down and offered Gwen a smile, “Depends on the layout of the arena. My games were a field with some hills... It was... a short game that year.”

“Wade was in a mountainous forest right?” Peter chimed in, shoveling a small amount of eggs into his mouth.

“That's right.” Vanessa looked at Peter, “But every year they change it up and since we are close to a Quarterly game, they will have a lot of things set up. Shelter shouldn't be something that either of you look for. If there are trees, go up into them. If not, then adapt and find a good way to keep yourselves hidden at night.”

A short silence filled the car before Vanessa glanced between him and Gwen, seemingly taking stock of what they had to offer. She leaned back in her chair, “I will need to know your strengths. It will be important to help you both train to lessen your weaknesses.”

“Peter is smart. He's able to make just about anything electronic work. The Hob loves him for it.” Gwen gave Peter a warm smile.

Peter blushed, dropping his gaze to the table, “Gwen is fast and quiet. She has snuck up on me more times than I can count. She's smart as well. She's taught me a lot about District 12.”

Vanessa tilts her head, squinting her eyes as she looks at Peter, “Why do you say it that way?”

Peter stumbles over his words, “Uh.. I... I'm not from District 12. I'm from 3.”

Gwen turned a glare onto Vanessa, “Don't you dare ask him why he's in 12. He doesn't have to tell you.”

Vanessa put up her hands in surrender, “Alright, fair enough. That's something that we can use to your advantage Peter. Don't tell anyone else and don't let others know that you know how to mess with electronics, save that for the games.”

Gwen kept her glare firm before slowly dropping it, “What else do we need to know?” She was slowly starting to pick at her food, her gaze locked intensely on Vanessa. Peter glanced up to see Vanessa turn towards Gwen, the two of them talking but Peter wasn't listening to their words.

This morning had been a disaster. Between the wake up call of shouting over breakfast and the downing conversation of both Gwen and his mortality; it was enough to tire Peter out. He slunk away from the breakfast car only to move back towards his bed car. He glanced out to the rushing forests and fields that they passed, noticing familiar landmarks from his first unfortunate train ride. He hovered by the window for a while as he tried to chase away the memories. He had spent so many years in District 12, returning towards the richer districts almost seemed abnormal and alien. The individuals there lived a completely different life with different worries. He knew he couldn't speak for all the districts as he was sure there was struggle within them, but he was no longer the bright eyed child he was back in District 3.

He clenched his jaw as he turned his gaze ahead, walking through the empty hallways. The rumbling from the train car filled the silence as Peter put distance between Gwen and Nessa. He didn't want to think about what they could be talking about, though he did hope that Gwen would ask the important questions that she might not want to ask with him around. He refused to let his mind drift to the games. He needed just a moment not to think about his inevitable future.

Ahead, Peter could hear voices. He glanced over his shoulder, debating if he should head back but found his feet moving forward. As quietly as he could, he hid himself in an alcove where he heard Wade's voice talking with someone.

“They've been getting more notices about riots in 10.”

“I wouldn't worry about that. Probably just some people mad over all the livestock they've got to kill.” Wade scoffed, “The Capitol's been increasing the quotas for each district, disagreements were bound to come up.”

“These aren't disagreements Wade. These are actual things.” The other voice sounds annoyed.

“I'm not doubting that they are but last time I checked, I'm only supposed to worry about my district, not anyone else's.”

“What happens in other districts affects your district idiot.” There is another scoff followed by silence, “Have you heard anything else?”

“Anything else about what?”

There is a growl, “Don't be obtuse Wade. From the other districts?”

“Look, when I spend time in the Capitol, it's not all fun and games. I go in, do my job and get out. I'm not there to play spy.” Wade growls back, “To be frank, the fact that you're here is worrying in its own right, aren't you supposed to be somewhere else?”

There's silence for a moment before the other voice scoffs, “That's been explained but you're right.”

Peter glances out from his hiding hole to see a peacekeeper outfit disappear into the next train car. The sliding door closes with a click that barely covered up Wade's sighs, “I don't get paid enough for this shit...”

Wade falls silent before he growls, “Fuck off, you don't know anything.”

Peter worries for a moment that there was someone else but he could have sworn that he only heard Wade and the other voice. Wade's voice calls out, “I'm not going to do that and you got your fill.”

The door slides open again, leaving Peter in his alcove confused. He tried to piece together what he heard. There were riots in 10, which could only mean that the resistance that his parents talked about was still going. They could be growing for all he knew. He had become too worried about surviving in 12 to even spare a moment about fighting back. Wade was involved in something but from the way he talked with the peacekeeper, he might not be. He was being paid by the peacekeepers, but at the same time that peacekeeper didn't sound like they were with agreeance with the Capitol. He frustratingly ran his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what any of this could possibly mean.

~*~

“What kind of lies are you filling their heads with, Nessa? Are you telling them that they'll be all right?” Wade growled at her. He gestured to Gwen who was standing next to Nessa with a wide-eyed look as she glanced between the two previous victors.

“I'm telling them what they need to know! Unlike you. What have you done lately?” Nessa growled back at him, “At least someone is helping them. You're just being an asshole!”

“Nah, I've always been the one to tell them the truth. They are more likely to be the first to die when they go in that arena. You wanna know why?” Wade took a menacing step forward, while Nessa stepped forward to protect Gwen. His attention was fully on Nessa as his hands clenched into fists, a visible tremble going through his body as he glared at her. “12 is the weakest district out of this whole fucking place and everyone knows it. Even the people in 12 know it. You're all the cattle to the wolves in the Capitol. How many people have won from District 1 and 2 over the past few years Nessa? Every. Single. One.”

“We're fighters Wade. Struggle gives us a chance to survive. Your dumb ass survived and I’ve SEEN your struggle.”

[A wolf among sheep]

{A snake in the grass}

[How long until they all learn you're a liar?]

{Do you think they'll kill you or throw you to the Capitol for them to kill you.}

[Torture you and make you even uglier than you are.]

Wade’s fist clenched so tightly he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream to silence the voices. He couldn’t clearly hear Nessa anymore, his own rage building up to the point that he could faintly hear blood pounding in his ears. His eyes bore into Nessa’s face, “You leave me the fuck out of this. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. Why don’t you tend to the cattle that’ll be led to slaughter soon?”

“Fuck you Wade. You used to care, what happened?”

“You know what happened!” Wade aggressively stomped forward, leaning forward to intimidate Nessa. Nessa kept a straight face, but took a step back, keeping herself between Gwen and Wade.

“So what? You’re just going to be an ass to everyone because of hardship. That’s bullshit and you know it. We have all gone through hardships Wade Wilson. You’re not any more special than anyone in this car.”

“Why get their hopes up when you know what will happen? They’ll both die in that arena and no amount of preparation is going to change that. You can tell them your lies but you're going to be the ones telling their parents about how you damned their children with stupid words.”

Nessa opened her mouth to rebuttal but Wade spoke over her, “You lost what actually goes on in this world Nessa. You think things are fair and everyone has got a shot in that arena but you're wrong. I bet you anything, they’ll both die within the first couple of days.”

[The truth hurts but not as much as broken bones]

{Or fire. Do you remember how your skin sizzled and popped?]

[I remember all of the delicious screams and whimpers you made]

{It's a shame you didn't just burn up there. You wouldn't be such a waste of space now.}

[You wouldn't be such a burden on everyone here]

{Maybe those other kids would be been alive}

[You’re a disease to everyone around you]

The voices were growing louder and he could feel the blood started to trickle from where his nails had dug into flesh too far. He could feel his palm throb as he tried to gain control over his own thoughts again. He couldn’t hear Nessa yelling at him, but he could see that she was getting red in the face.

[Look at what you do to the people around you.]

{You only cause pain and misery.}

[You should have died]

{Why don’t you just die?}

As though it was self determined, Wade's head snapped hard to the side when he felt a fist connect with his cheek. He stumbled backwards as the voices fell silent and his hand reactionary went to his face. There is a split second of panic for fear of what that fist might have felt before it is taken over by astonishment and rage. His gaze snaps onto Peter who is standing in front of him with an equally matched glare, but he can see a small amount of worry trying to be covered up in his eyes. The car is silent as Wade stands back up, wiping away a bit of blood that was rolling down his lips. His glare turned predatory as a smirk replaces a semi-formed snarl, “You got a mean hook there Pete.”

“Wade.” Vanessa warns as she takes a step back Peter up.

Wade ignores her as steps into Peter's space. He easily towers over him as he looks down at Peter while Peter glares up at him. Wade tilts his head to the side as he stares at him. The lights shift suddenly as the car is enveloped in a dark tunnel, Wade leans forward as he mumbled something that only Peter can hear, “Thank you.”

Just as quickly as that happened, the dark tunnel gives way to the blinding afternoon sun glistening over the Capitol's marveling luxury. Wade takes that moment of blinding light to disappear, racing off to be deeper in the train cars.

~*~

Peter is left blinking, glare gone as he stares up at where Wade used to stand. Why did he thank him for punching him? He feels Gwen slam into his side, hugging him tightly. He glances between Vanessa and Gwen, “Uh.... What just happened?”

Vanessa opened her mouth to say something, but Gwen's gasp silenced her. Just as suddenly as Gwen's body had been attached to him, she was gone. She stood by the window, looking out to the Capitol, “Peter! Come look at this.”

He glanced over to Vanessa who only nodded her head to indicate to Peter to join her. He was far slower to join her side as he only caught a glimpse before their view was gone, leaving only a cement tunnel as their view. It was only a few minutes before the train was brought back into the light but instead of the view of the buildings, this time there were millions of faces smiling and cheering at them. Gwen and Peter stumble backwards, taken aback by the sudden appearance of so many people. The train was slowing down as the faces were becoming less blurred and the two of them could see that everyone on either side of the windows were trying to get a look at them.

Peter felt self-conscious as he took a step backwards, trying to obstruct their vision by using the train's pillars to hide. Gwen seemed to struggle for a moment. Peter watched her steel herself and wave back to people, causing the cheers to grow louder.

Just as suddenly as all that happened, the crowds disappeared as the train pulled into the private landing. Vanessa shuffled them both out without uttering a single word. Gwen and Peter held hands, giving each other the courage they needed as they dealt with the reality of being here. They walked through a long hallway that was filled with propaganda images of the bright future Panem had now because of the games. It all made Peter feel sick to his stomach.

The moment they got to the end of the hallway and up a few flights of stairs, they are ripped away from each other. Peter glances back to Vanessa who only offers a small smile before walking away. He is whisked off into a building and put through a cleansing room. Several individuals shove him into a shower after stripping him of his clothes. He quickly covers himself as he looks at the people with a mild amount of horror. They offer no emotion as they turn on the shower, blasting him with a brief amount of freezing water before it shifts to a brutal heat. He tried to find some relief by inching away from the hot water, but the people shoved him back in. They scrubbed him head to toe until his skin was rubbed raw and he was red. Only then did they pull him out and immediately went to work drying him.

Without getting any bearings, they shoved him along to trim everything they could. He was thankful for the hair cut because he knew that he needed it, but he felt they were a little too close when it came to his shave. When the whirlwind of individuals ended and he was left alone in a starch white room, Peter dared to sit up on the table they had laid him out on. He glanced at the door, briefly debating if he could slip away. He argued with himself enough that he didn't notice the door opening and someone slipping in.

“Peter Parker, is it not?” A chilling voice caused Peter to flinch and immediately tense. He looked up to see an individual dressed in black with small shades of gray, their face covered with black cloth making it hard to see who they were.

“Uh... Y-yes?” He swallowed a lump that was forming, tugging nervously at the white shorts they had shoved him into.

“I will not lie and say such things as it is a pleasure to meet you and that you are blessed to be here because you are not.” The person's harsh tone made Peter tuck in on himself.

“But what I will say is that you intrigue me Peter Parker.” The voice came closer this time. Peter looked up to see the person standing in front of him. A clawed hand comes up and grips his jaw strongly, pushing his face from side to side as they made small noises to themselves.

“Yes... I can work with this.”

“Who are you?” Peter's voice comes out a little muffled from the strong grip.

The person tuts at him before letting go, “You may call me Death as that is the name these lowly Capitol scum call me.”

Peter winces as he listens to their harsh words, “Why do you say that?”

“It is what they are.” Death states matter-of-factually, “Individuals here are tiresome and believe themselves better than others. It is boring and idiotic.”

“Aren't you worried about saying something like that here? Aren't you one of these 'lowly Capitol scum'?” Peter voice thick with a bitter venom he didn't even know he had. He let his words spill out without realizing what he said and quickly slapped his hands over his mouth as he looked at Death fearfully.

Death's eyebrow raised but gave way to no other emotion, “Nothing that President Norman nor this Capitol does ever fills me with worry. I fear nothing from either and I see myself as better than them because I see the world that they choose to cover. Come Peter, we have somewhere to be.”

Peter watched Death walk back out the door, leaving him sitting on the table as he attempted to find some understanding of what just happened. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it as he slid off the table, hesitantly following after Death. Death stood in a white hallway lined with windows that showed the majesty of the Capitol. Peter wished he wasn't taken back by the tall buildings but it was such a difference from 12. District 3 had looked similar but even then, everything looked more modern and cluttered compared to the expanse of the Capitol.

“It is incredible how wasteful this district can be while others must struggle. Come Peter. We must get you ready.” Death's voice broke through the silence of the hallway. He looked over to the cloaked figure, nodding and silently following after them. The pair walked in a tense silence until they boarded an elevator.

Peter glanced over to the figure, taking in their imposing shape but lacking anything that would distinguish them as a designer, “You... You are Wade's designer right?”

They tilted their head but continued to look ahead, “I am. Such a pity what has happened to him.”

Peter's curiosity was piqued as he turned his full attention to Death, “What happened? Vanessa said something happened but doesn't say anything.”

“Mm... That is not my place to say. My dear Wade has struggled a lot in his life. He fights every day against unseen forces that threaten his very sanity.” Death made eye contact with Peter as their voice lowered, “These games will threaten your life as well Peter and they will always take something dear from you. That is what they are designed for, for the victors are never truly victors.”

The ding of the elevator and the soft whoosh of the door opening, broke the conversation as Death strolled out. Peter stood alone in the elevator for a moment, feeling a chill run down his spine. He wasn't sure how to feel about his designer, but he knew there was a strange honesty to their words. As the doors began to close, he quickly shuffled out and followed after them. Death led him to a smaller room that felt intimate. They gestured for Peter to sit in front of a vanity and waited with patience while he took his time. They moved forward, putting clawed hands on his shoulders, “Calm Peter. Nothing will come to you while I hold guardianship over you.”

Peter wasn't sure if that helped put him at ease or worried him even more. He remained still while Death peppered his face with small amounts of makeup. He couldn't help but cough as wave them away whenever the dust became too much. When Death moved away, Peter looked at himself in the mirror and felt almost haunted by the image looking back at him. Death had paled his face slightly then used a small amount of eye-liner to draw out his brown eyes which popped. Then they had drawn a few barely visible lines of black that resembled veins but spread out in a way that looked like a spider's web.

Death looked at the mirror, a smug glint in their eyes, “Come now, we don't have time for you to sit there staring. Get into your outfit and we must get your ready for your entrance.”

Peter opened his mouth, but closed it as he couldn't help but keep staring at his own face. An annoyed sound came from behind him as Death moved forward, throwing up their cloak to hide the mirror, “Let us get you ready now Peter. You would not want to keep the other waiting.”

He shook his head as he looked up at Death's face. They had a small amount of amusement in their eyes as they gestured with their free hand to a rather simple outfit hanging behind him. He got up and began shedding his shorts, glancing behind him to see Death with their back turned to give him some privacy. He dressed himself quickly. He cleared his throat to get Death's attention as he turned around to get their opinion.

Death looked back and hummed, “Yes. This will do nicely.” They moved closer as they made minor adjustments, but Peter looked back up to the mirror, seeing himself dressed fully. His makeup didn't look nearly as pale as it did before. He wore a simple suit but a flare along the edges that pointed out into sharp edges. Silver lines branched out from the edges and danced alone the jacket in a web-like pattern. His pants were being tucked into sharp toed boots, while Death was placing clasps to keep everything in place. Faintly running alongside the silver lines were lines of red and orange as though to indict some fire beneath the black fabric. Death stepped away from Peter and nodded to him, a smile evident in their eyes, “This will do.”

“Uh... How does this represent 12?” Peter glanced down at his clothes again, “I don't see how these lines show coal at all.”

“It is quite funny that you ask me of my designs while Wade remained silent. It is true that neither of your outfits show 12's industry. I have always found that to be a tacky ideal. No... both of you have been outfitted with what your district suffers from. Wade was the sickness that coal brings. Smoky and constant; a bringer of death to the miners that suffer.” Death flourished their speech with small hand motions while Peter remained silent, listening intently.

“You, Peter, are an entirely different thing. You are the embodiment of the hunger that 12 faces. The spider's webs that hang within the mines and homes of those who have been forgotten.” Death runs a finger over the red and orange lines, “And the fire that burns within each surviving day that you live on. Call it a series if you will; after all, I only design for fighters.”

Peter looks at Death skeptically, unsure what to do with this knowledge, “Why me? You should have done Gwen.”

Death waved their hand, stepping away from Peter, dismissing his statement, “A favor for Wade because he asked.” Peter's eyebrows scrunched up as he opened his mouth the rebuttal, but Death spoke over him. They looked at Peter with remorse, “But mostly for two old friends who I sorely miss and I know would regret you being called.”

Peter felt his heart stop as he looked at Death with wide eyes. He wanted to demand what they meant by that, what they knew about his parents, but he was silenced with a shake of their head and a finger pushed against their covered mouth. Death opened the door, “Come now, your audience awaits.”

His shoulders slump as he walks out of the door into an enclosed garage structure. Death walks out behind him, closing the door firmly as they place a hand on his shoulder. They walked silently ahead until Peter saw Vanessa and Gwen standing by a decorated carriage. He slips from Death's grip and races forward, pulling Gwen into a tight hug. She returns his grip, neither sure who is trembling more.

“I see you're here again. What brings District 1's Death to us again so soon?” Vanessa stood next to Gwen and Peter, acting as guardian.

“A favor.” Death answered simply. They pushed passed Vanessa's body, walking next to Gwen and Peter, “No more compassion right now. Save that for when you both are tucked away in your space later.”

Peter slowly lets go of Gwen, giving her a half smile as he takes in her outfit. She stands stark different from Peter, wearing a white gown that hangs loose around the collar. She has paled makeup with black web-like patterns on her face and exposed arms. Her dress shows the silvery lines but they are accompanied with thick black smudges and lines branching from the base of her dress. She shares small amounts of red and orange that mirror Peter's. He looks at Death who only gives him a wink as they push the pair towards the carriage, “You both have taken so long that they will be starting shortly.”

Gwen's designer helps Gwen into the carriage, draping her gown's small train to hang outside the cart. Death walks next to Peter, messing with his jacket, “No smiling Peter. Look determined and hold yourself strong.”

“But that's not going to make Vanessa's and Wade's job easy for sponsors.” Peter looked down at Death.

“Waving and smiling gives them fuel and you are going to show them that the fuel is gone. It's been burned away and it is time for it to end.” Death's voice grew quieter and lower as they spoke. Peter gave Death a slow nod before looking back at Gwen. Her jaw is clenched as she looked ahead. He swallows his nerves as he looks ahead, seeing the other district carts pulling ahead. When the horses lurch their cart forward, Peter takes the short distance in the covered garage to pull himself together. As the opening comes closer, Peter takes a breath before pulling his head high, looking ahead.

As the cart moves forward into the evening light, Gwen grabs Peter's hand, squeezing it. Peter keeps his gaze ahead but returns the squeeze. There was still a faint glow of oranges and pinks in the sky where the sun had been. The night sky rapidly taking over, the stars glimmering overhead, doing their best to be shown through the Capitol's bright lights. The roar from the audience had built slowly as they rode down the long stretch of road. Peter didn't spare a glance to any of the audience members and neither did Gwen. As the pair came to a small arena wall by several cement structures that held the elite of the elite higher than the rest, Peter spared a glance upwards to the screen.

There stood President Norman wearing a smile that bordered on a sneer, “Welcome tributes to the 49th Hunger Games. We wish you a happy games and may the odds be ever in your favor.” Peter could hear the crowds roar in cheer and he could see Norman talking but didn't listen to the rest of what he was saying. Shortly after their cart lurched forward as they pushed onward into a shelter tunnel, leaving the audience behind them. When Peter felt like they were safely away, he let his shoulders slump and let a shaky breath escape.

Gwen held Peter's hand firmly but she let her shoulder slump as well, “I'm glad that's over.”

“Yeah... now we just have to deal with everything else.” Peter mumbled more to himself. The horses pulled the carriage into another enclosed structure and Peter was beyond happy that he couldn't hear the crowds anymore.

“Quite a look you two.” Vanessa offered the pair a smile as she walked over to them. Peter got down and helped Gwen down. “I don't know about you, but it's been a long day, let's head up to the apartment you'll be staying for now.”

“Are you two doing some ying-yang thing?” Weasel scoffed out as he walked up behind Vanessa, “Cause, I gotta say it doesn't really work for your district.”

“Weas, I swear-” Vanessa turns a glare at the oily man.

He shrugged, “What? You're thinking the same thing. Like some kinda zen ritual out there and none of it screams 'District 12 – Coal'” Weasel gestured as if he was selling some kind of two-bit show. Peter couldn't help the snort of laughter that came out. Weasel offered him a smirk but Vanessa's glare remained.

“I haven't gotten enough sleep in this world to deal with this insanity. All of you clowns get in that damn elevator.” She pointed to the opening door, ushering all three of them on. Gwen and Peter shot looks back at each other, small giggles as they stole glances at each others' outfits. As the doors began to slide closed, a hand flew out, forcing it back open. Wade stood in front of them, looking presentable in a completely black suit with matching leather gloves. He said no words as he walked in, the elevator closing behind him. As the small amount of laughter evaporated quickly. Peter looked away, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched the floors whirl passed them. He wasn't about to look at Wade after the horrible things he shouted at in front of Gwen. Peter knew both of them or one of them was going to have to die. He didn't need the constant reminder from a Victor who had bloodied his own arena.

The elevator ride grew more awkward and tense. It was about to boil over when the elevator's cheerful chime alerted them to their floor. The doors slid open and Wade was the first to walk out. Everyone else piled out after, Peter being the last to walk out as he looked around the luxury of their apartment. He sneered when he felt a hand grasp his wrist, tugging him to the side. Peter bunched up his hand into a fist ready to swing at whoever had grabbed him. He looked up with a glare to see Wade standing there, holding out a hand to either grab his fist or in a way to stop him. Peter let his fist fall but did not unclench, “What do you want?”

“I wanted to say... sorry.” Wade still held onto Peter's wrist, his grip firm but not painful. Peter's eyes remained narrowed as he looked at Wade, remaining silent.

“I'm not sorry for saying the things I did, but I'm sorry for how I said it.” Wade looked away from Peter, looking out towards the lavish apartment, “You both already know about all of that and it doesn't help to constantly have someone say it, even if it's the truth.”

“You're real shit at apologies.” Peter shook his head, “Typically if you apologize you have to mean what you're saying and you don't actually mean it.”

“Listen. I'm not going to apologize for saying truthful things, especially if they happen to be more true than false.” Wade refused to look at Peter, but Peter could see Wade's jaw clench out of annoyance.

“I get that Vanessa is probably trying to shelter us a bit, but constantly throwing people the reality of their situation isn't good either. To be fair, both of you are kinda shit at this.” That statement brought Wade's attention onto Peter, his eyes widened as he looked at Peter for what felt like the first time.

A smirk cracked Wade's face, “You got a hell of an attitude there Pete.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “I just got paraded in front of the Capitol and all of Panem in this.” He gestured to his outfit, “And now I'm hearing a fake apology from someone who has been nothing but an ass since he walked on the train. Yeah, I got an attitude right now.”

“I said I was sorry and I meant what I said.” Wade gave him a mocking scowl which caused Peter to scoff again.

“Yeah right. If you're really sorry, how about you go apologize to Gwen and Vanessa. They are the real people you should be apologizing to.”

Wade's jaw tensed for a moment before he let go of Peter's hand and brushed past him. For a split second, Peter thought Wade's temper was going to flare, but he watched through neatly trimmed foliage Wade storm up to Gwen and Vanessa sitting at the table. They both looked at Wade, one out of hesitation and the other out of annoyance. In an overly loud voice, Wade says, “I'm sorry for being an asshole but I'm not sorry for the words.”

Wade looks back at Peter with an exasperated look and Peter couldn't help but cover his mouth to stop a laugh. Gwen and Vanessa looked stunned as they glanced at each other. Vanessa was the first to recover, “Great. So are you going to eat with us or are you just going to hover?”

Peter snorted as he ducked behind the half wall, letting a fit of giggles out. Wade let out a groan of annoyance and he could hear the chair Wade pulls out by the squeak against the flooring.

“Hey Pete! Get over here and join us.” Wade shouted, causing Peter to flinch and poke his head out to see everyone looking at him with different levels of amusement.

The rest of the night was spent in a tense but more open than before.

~*~

Training started the next morning and it was Vanessa's day with them. These games were doing training differently, each day the victors would share skills and tips with the tributes and the last three days would be spent within the Games' typically training center. Peter didn't like how any of it sounded, but he quickly learned how Vanessa won her games. The level of strength that she had hidden away was terrifying. She had them up at the crack of dawn and running laps in the indoor gym until Peter swore his legs were going to give out. They took breaks where Vanessa would throw random tips and tricks for each of them. When the afternoon came, Peter and Gwen were given a bit of down time to recover from the morning.

“If I have to run another lap, I'm going to puke on her.” Gwen was laying on the cool marble floor of their apartment. Peter had propped himself up on the entrance stairs, letting out an airy laugh when he felt his muscles protest from the movement.

“Tomorrow's Wade. I'm sure that'll be even worse.” Peter offered which only gained a displeased groan from Gwen.

“You don't think she'll push us again later, will she?” Gwen rolled over, flopping onto another section of exposed flooring.

“I hope not.” Peter whined, letting his head flop back against the half wall.

“Oh no.” Vanessa's voice caused both Gwen and Peter to tense, “I'm quizzing you on your smarts. Plus, Peter I already saw how much faster Gwen is than you. If anything, we're going to work on your two left feet.”

Gwen cackled against the floor while Peter flushed from embarrassment. Vanessa smirked at them, having already changed outfits to something more comfortable, “We can't have you trip over yourself and get taken out that way.”

The afternoon and into the evening, Vanessa has Peter and Gwen sitting opposite each other, quizzing them on various things. They ranged from simple survival techniques to some more technical aspects. They remained neck to neck for most of it, each showing more knowledge in one thing or another. They broke for dinner and when it came time to quiz again, Wade proved to be more distracting than Vanessa appreciated. She shooed him out of the room by throwing her heels at him, but Wade merely remarked on them not being his size. Gwen and Peter laughed all the way to their rooms, collapsing from the exhaustion of the day.

True to Peter's prediction, Wade was worse. Wade was harsher in his training. Instead of testing their strength, agility or knowledge, he tested them on how well they would survive and their combat skill. Peter had never been in anything more than a fist fight and he wasn't sure on Gwen's skill level. Wade was relentless when it came to hand-to-hand combat and didn't go easy on either of them. He was quick in his assessments, pointing out what they were doing wrong but equally as quick when giving them a compliment. Wade was fascinated by Gwen's speed and changed up tactics with her, but he was constantly reminding her to not hesitate when it comes to landing a punch or the killing blow.

After a while Wade let Gwen go to tend to her bruises and rest up. When Wade was alone with Peter, he used the element of surprise to throw Peter off. He tried his best to keep up but when his back collided with the hard floor of the gym, all his breath escaped and he didn't want to get up. Wade towered over him, crouched over with a hand on his neck to keep him pinned.

“You think too much.” Wade panted out, “You both do.”

“Well I can't exactly turn off my brain.” Peter wheezed out, letting his body lay limp on the floor.

“You're going to have to or you'll be the first to go.”

“You already told us that.”

“Neither of you can think about the other tributes as people. You can't think about where they come from or what will happen to them once they are gone. The moment you do is the moment you will lose.”

Peter remained silent. Wade's words twisted his stomach as he thought through what he said, “You are saying to treat them like cattle?”

A brief amount of hesitance and remorse fell over Wade's face before he dropped it and found a heavy look that Peter couldn't describe, “Yes.”

“No.” Peter's answer echoed in the empty room. For a brief second, Peter could feel Wade's grip on his neck tense before letting go. Wade's figure moved off of him and walked away. He could hear Wade muttered angrily to himself. Peter propped himself up slowly by his elbows as he watched Wade's back for a moment.

A mumbled silence passed between them before Wade's voice rang out, “You're done. Go rest for the day.” Wade made a fast escape, leaving Peter alone in the gym. He was confused by the exchange and continued to think about it well into the evening. Gwen has tried to nudge him into conversation over dinner but after a few one word answers, she gave up. Vanessa and Gwen spoke easily with each other filling the silence from Peter. He only stayed at the table for a while before getting up and going to his room. He laid on his bed staring at the ceiling. Every time he thought about what Wade said, his stomach would twist into knots. He knew that the moment he got in that arena, if he wanted to get out alive, certain things needed to happen.

Sleep didn't come easy to Peter that night and the next morning, he felt more like a zombie than normal. They were able to pick who they worked with the next couple of days and Gwen had already left. Vanessa sat at the still full table as she looked over notes. She glanced up and saw how tired Peter was, clicking her tongue, “Stay up all night partying?”

Her voice made Peter look up and off a weak snort of laughter, “I wish.”

“No you don't.” She set aside her notepad, “Eat up Peter. It's you and me today.”

He ate slowly, mostly pushing the food around on the plate. He felt disgusted with himself when he watched so many piles of food being taken away when he finally ate what he could. There were people starving in other districts and yet there seemed to be an overabundance here. Vanessa sat at the end of the table, her fingers laced as she watched him. He dropped his gaze onto the empty table as he halfheartedly spoke, “So what is it today? Laps? Agility courses?”

Vanessa stayed quiet before letting out a sigh, “No. I think a day of rest is going to do you a world of good. Come on, let's go to the roof.”

Her heels clicked against the marble flooring as Peter followed her. He started to walk towards the elevator but Vanessa held open the door to the stairwell. He paused for a moment before shrugging and following her in.

On the roof, the expanse of the Capitol laid out around them. Vanessa's footsteps muffled by the gravel as she walked to the edge. She sat down and swung her legs over the edge, “Come join me Peter.”

Peter shuffled after her, sitting on the edge as well, though he kept his feet firmly on the roof. She looked out to the city. The noise of the Capitol filled the silence that they shared before she broke it, “What did Wade say?”

Peter looked up at her startled, but she didn't return his look. She kept a firm expression on her face, watching the city. He looked away, glancing back to the city before looking at his hands in his lap. He chewed over the words in his head for a moment, “How can either of you be so okay with the killings that are going to happen?”

It was Vanessa's turn to let out a snort, “Trust me Peter. That's far from the truth.”

“Then why does Wade keep calling people cattle? Why does he keep harping on Gwen and I to stop seeing these other kids as anything but what they are?” Peter's voice grew tight as his eyes glazed over with the threat of tears.

“Wade...” Vanessa started but stopped. She paused before letting out a sigh, “Wade is a case of someone whose games left such a hard scar that he has never been able to heal from it. Understand that Wade spent 6 long months in that arena when the games typically last a month at most. It's not an excuse for him being an asshole, but he didn't come back well.”

Vanessa turned to look at Peter, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at saw remorse in her eyes, “Neither of us are okay with the murders that are going to come. My goal is to try and prepare you and Gwen so that one of you survives to come home and be with your family again. That's all any of us are trying to do and I know that's what you want to do as well.”

He looked back to the door that they had walked through, moments earlier, “I don't know if I can do it Vanessa. I-”

“Peter, you can't change your morals in a day. No matter what that idiot wants to believe. It's okay that this is hard for you. It's normal. Well, it's sweeter than normal, but still some level of normal.”

“How am I supposed to live in that arena if I can't... won't kill someone else?”

“You're smart Peter. You'll figure out a way to survive, but sometimes instinct takes over and that's when you truly see yourself.” She offered Peter a small smile, “Also, didn't I tell you to call me Nessa.”

Peter let out a broken chuckle as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear the tears that threatened to fall. Nessa squeezed his shoulder, “Let's not talk anymore about that. What do you want to know?”

It takes a few resets but eventually the conversation grows. They stayed on the roof the entire time and only returned to the apartment. Gwen had some ice laying on her arm but seemed to be holding some kind of conversation with Wade. Vanessa and Peter joined them. Peter's mood had improved but he remained fairly quiet over dinner. He went to bed and thankfully fell asleep with no issues.

The next morning when he went out to eat breakfast, it was a simpler spread. In fact there were only two plates, one was clearly his and the other Wade's, who was sitting at the table, “Looks like the dead are finally joining us today.”

Peter flipped him off before sitting at the table, munching at the food. They both ate in silence until the plates were emptied and taken away. Wade grunts as he gets up, “Come on Pete. Let's not burn daylight.”

He let out a sigh as he got up, following Wade to the elevator. They remained silent until they walked into the gym. Wade moved ahead while Peter stood just outside of the elevator. Peter thought over what Nessa said the day before and finally blurted out, “I'm not okay with seeing the other tributes as cattle.”

Wade stopped moving, holding a wooden weapon in his hands, back to Peter. He was still as Peter began to fret, “I know that if I want to live, I'm going to have to do things that I don't like. I know that...”

Peter's voice faltered by the end as he looked down at his feet. A flash of prior hunger games come into his mind as he thought of all the individuals that have gone before him, “But thinking of them as something that they aren't isn't okay. You might be able to think of people that way, but there are kids who are going to be out there Wade. Kids who might not be able to see their families ever again. Don't they deserve some kind of kindness in the games?”

An inhuman growl echoed through the gym that causes Peter to tense, his mouth slamming shut. His eyes looked at Wade, watching a tremor go through the wooden weapon.

“Kindness doesn't belong in the games.” Wade's voice felt like a stone wall, “What do you think your kindness is going to get you Peter?”

Without letting him answer, Wade bulldozes over him, “I can tell you exactly what you will get. A knife in the back and a cannon with your pretty little portrait displayed for all the districts to see. Your kindness will bring others pleasure and pain, do you want that?”

Peter felt a small tremor in his hand as he clenched it into a fist. He thought of May and Ben, the people in the Hob and MJ. No, of course he didn't want that, but he knew himself. His temper flared when he realized that Wade was trying to scare him, he turned a glare onto Wade's back, “You didn't have a problem showing that little girl kindness in your games.”

The snapping of wood filled the air as Wade turned around and rapidly approaching Peter. There was a look of murder in Wade's eye that burned bright with each step he took towards him. Peter knew he might have overstepped, but his own rage blinded his logic. Wade was growling as he towered over him, “That was her own mistake that she paid for.”

“Bull shit.”

“What the fuck do you know?”

“Everyone saw what you did for her. You kept that locket on you the whole time and I saw you give it back to her mother.” Peter tilted his head up to stare into Wade's eyes. The fire that had been blazing behind it dimmed slightly as Wade's expression morphed into a degree of hurt.

Wade swallowed as he took a step back, “That doesn't mean shit.” His voice had lost most of the edge as Peter watched him take a few more steps backwards.

“I think it does.” Peter chewed on his lip while he decided what to do. Throwing caution to the wind, he stepped forward until he was able to put a hand on Wade's shoulder. He could hear Wade's shaky breaths as a wide-eyed gaze snapped onto Peter, “I don't know why you're such an asshole or why you are so set on this idea that kindness doesn't belong, but it's okay.”

Peter observed Wade's face twitch before he pulled himself away, his hands running along his cheeks as though he was petting himself. He kept doing that for a moment before ripping his hand away and turning a furrowed brow at Peter.

“Listen, you're a fucking adult. If you want to get yourself burned because you want to help someone who'll have to kill you to win. Remember in your dying breaths that I fucking told you.” Wade pointed at him before brushing by him, throwing up the door to the stairwell and stormed off. Peter watched the door slowly close, listening to Wade's agitated voice bounce around in the empty stairwell until it disappeared altogether. He rubbed at his face, letting out a groan as he looked over to the mess that was left. He sighed, sweeping up the destroyed weapon before returning back to his room. He didn't join everyone at dinner and stayed in his room, quizzing himself on everything he would need to know.

He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling before deciding that he needed some fresh air. As quietly as he could, he went up the stairwell and out onto the roof, enjoying the cool breeze. He walked toward the edge and took in the night view of the Capitol. He thought about all the people who were excited for the games to begin soon and his stomach twisted, flashes of the cheering faces came to mind. He needed to remind himself that there were people out there that were hoping for a gruesome death, if not betting on it. He couldn't help but question their sanity and wish that the world was somehow better than all of this.

“If you're going to jump, you'll want to move to the other side. Guarantee of landing on something sharp.” Wade's hoarse voice cut through Peter's thoughts. His head snapped behind him, seeing Wade fully dressed in blacks and reds, leaning against the stairwell door.

Peter shot a glare at him before looking away, “I'm not going to jump.”

Wade snorted, “Could have fooled me.”

Peter huffed but didn't answer him as he kept his gaze fully on the buildings around him. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge from Wade's gaze fixated on him. It made him feel antsy and prey-like. After a few moments, Peter couldn't take it anymore, snapping at him, “What do you want Wade? You made it pretty clear what you thought about everything and didn't train me once today.”

Peter's answer came with firm and sure footsteps against the graveled roof and a grunt of air when he felt Wade sitting next to him. There was a distance between them, but he was still close enough to feel some heat coming off of Wade. He kept his gaze firm on anywhere but Wade. A few moments passed before Wade spoke, his voice sounded more raspy up close, “Tomorrow, don't show them anything. Watch and observe everyone else. If you must train, do something that wouldn't key them into any strengths. You'll want them to underestimate you. Focus on the skills that'll keep you alive because no matter your level of combat, it's worthless if you can't find water or food.”

He leaned forward, putting his hands against the concrete edge, letting the small pebbles dig into his palm, “Why?”

“If the idiots don't see you as a threat, they'll focus on the ones who are going to be easier kills. It's even better if you make them forget you all together. If you don't stand out, they'll forget what you look like and it'll be easier to get around the arena. If you want to deal in kindness, do so sparingly.” Wade's voice clipped during the last sentence, a small amount of warmth broke through his uncaring tone. “Gwen said you both are stickin' together. That'll make it hard on both of you.”

Peter opened his mouth, jerking his attention over to Wade, ready to attack Wade on their choice to stay close. Wade wasn't looking at him. In fact he was staring at the door until he noticed Peter's movement and turned his gaze to look at him. Peter closed his mouth when he noticed a small smile on his face. Wade tilted his head to the side, his eyes glancing around Peter's face, “But telling you that won't make you change your mind. You're stubborn Pete and I respect that. Maybe one of you can live through this.”

Wade put a hand on Peter's shoulder, giving it a squeeze, “The only people who need to see your strengths are the judges. Prove to them that you can and will win. After all, you got an Aunt and Uncle who'll want to see you come home.”

Wade pushed off of Peter, disappearing as quickly as he came, leaving Peter to think about the genuine advice that he just received. He remained on the roof for a while longer, making his way back inside to go to bed.

~*~

Training with the other tributes was different. It reminded Peter of schools in District 3. Cliques formed almost instantly, while those unlucky ones were forced to deal with being ridiculed by the louder ones. It was almost too easy to tune everything out as Peter stayed near the survival based stations. Although he wished to go sit at the electronics station and build whatever his heart content, Peter was trying to listen to Wade’s advice. Gwen had offered some distance from Peter, focusing on her own skill learning.

Peter did watch the other tributes under the guise of setting up shelter. There were several other tributes that seemed around his age and no one seemed younger than 15. He hated the amount of relief he felt when he made that observation. District 1 and 2’s tributes were by far the loudest and most mocking out of everyone. Even with the Peacekeepers and added trainers, they were always looking for a fight. The first two days were nothing but a headache for Peter and he could tell Gwen wasn’t dealing with it much better.

On the last day, the training was cut in half so there could be more time for judging to go on. Peter and Gwen had worked together throughout the training, offering each other support. When the timer went off, every tribute was sent back to their rooms until they would be called later. Neither Nessa or Wade were there when they returned and they enjoyed some time together. Neither of them spoke, enjoying the quiet companionable silence between them before they were called down to join the other tributes in the waiting room. There was a palpable silence when they walked in. A Peacekeeper was standing by the elevator and directed them to their spots in the back. As they sat, one of the tributes from District 1 walked through the door.

Time ticked away slowly as one by one, each tribute walked through the door until only Gwen and Peter sat there. Gwen’s hands were squeezing Peter’s as she did her best to stop her nervous shaking. Peter whispered stupid things in an attempt to get her to relax.

“Gwen Stacy, District 12.” A computerized voice spoke causing Gwen to jump. She stood and walked over to the door, pausing for a moment to offer Peter a faint smile before disappearing behind the door.

Peter sat alone in the cement room, waiting for his turn as he ran over what he could possibly do to impress the judges. He sat there anxiously, staring at the door, waiting for his name to be called so he could just get this over with.

After a while, the computerized voice called out, “Peter Parker, District 12.”

He took a deep breath and stood up, walking over to the door. He stared at it for a while before pushing it open, seeing a panel of individuals sitting above the training room. The group of people seemed blurred out behind a panel of frosted glass.

“You have 10 minutes to show us your best skill, Mr. Parker.” The voice sounded only slightly muffled thanks to the glass, but Peter didn’t waste a minute before he raced over to the electronics that were laid out. He glanced over everything laid out on the table, having to take a minute to quickly catalogue what could be made and how quickly. Although no clock was in the training room, Peter could hear a mental ticking away his available time. He gathered what he could, moving back to the center as he jerry-rigged a loud explosive smoke bomb. He felt the judges eyes on him as he glanced around him. He took in the small sections of cement that had chipped away to follow up his other plan.

He set the bomb down, taking a step back as he looked up to the judges. He noticed their shapes had moved to observe what he was making. He waited for just a moment before snagging a piece of wiring and threw it at the bomb. The explosion sound echoed through the room and rattled the glass. Peter could hear the ringing in his ears but he used the cover of smoke to jolt up the cement siding, climbing onto the hidden rafters above. He let out shaky breaths, trying to not outwardly pant. The smoke sank to the floor, revealing Peter missing. He could hear some of the judges muttering angrily as they tried to find where he went. He could barely make out one of them demanding a Peacekeeper go in to find him.

As quietly as he could, he shifted his weight, making sure he remained in the shadows until he was close enough to the glass. The shapes of the judges remained blurry making Peter curious about how the glass actually worked, but he gripped the metal rafter to swing himself and landed in front of the glass. There were a few shrieks as Peter knocked on the glass. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. He nodded his head towards them before jumping down and exiting the room without saying another word.

As soon as he was within the elevator, he let his body collapse in need of the desperate air that he limited himself to. Peter let his head hit the elevator wall as he waited for it to arrive at his floor. A nervous chuckle came out as he rubbed at his face, trying to keep away the uncertain thoughts of if he showed them enough or not.

The elevator dinged and Peter crawled out. He let himself lay on the floor for a minute, face resting against the cool marble. Heavy shoes thumping against the floor stopped right in front of him, but Peter didn’t have the energy to look at who it was.

“A bomb and a startle? Quite a showman.” Wade’s rough voice was filled with more mirth than Peter had ever heard from him. He let his cheek hit the floor as he peered up to Wade with one eye. Wade looked as amused as he sounded. Wade leaned over, “Not sure how that’ll do, but the fact that you made that in such a short time. I’ll give it to you Baby boy, you know how to spook some old geezers.”

Peter didn’t stop the laugh that came out as he offered a smile, “I panicked.”

“Shiiit. If that’s you panicking, I’d hate to see you put together.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Alright smart ass, up you get. Get some food in you, you’re in for a long night.” Wade harrumphed at him, which brought a groan out of Peter. He didn’t want to get up, the floor was so much nicer right now.

~*~

Peter stood in the eve of the massive stage in front of him. Death stood next to him as well as Wade. He was silently questioning how this had happened. Gwen was sitting on stage with the interviewer, dressed in a modest gown. It made her look regal as she smoozed with the crowd. They were eating her up and Peter felt intimidated. He wished Nessa was standing with him instead of Wade, he could really use her advice at this moment.

Death was making minor adjustments to Peter’s suit. It was a dark blue with red and silver threads etching throughout the jacket. It followed the web-like pattern from his first suit and he found that it was growing on him. He glanced down to Death ever so often, before looking over at Wade who seemed to be watching Gwen’s conversation with disinterest. Peter chewed on his lip, “So… any advice?”

“Don’t trip.” Wade shrugged.

Death clicked their tongue, “Wade, you are of no help.”

“What? It’s true. You fall and trip on your face, that’ll make those judges and sponsors seriously question helping you.”

“You’re making Peter more nervous and that is not what you are meant to do.” Death’s voice gave off an icy tone. Their clawed hand grabbed Peter by the chin, pulling his gaze onto them. “Do not listen to him. Breathe and be honest, you have done both things easily here. We will be waiting for you when you are finished.”

Wade made mocking gestures behind Death, only for them to kick him in his leg. Wade growled and bit back a curse before going to sulk somewhere. Death dusted off Peter’s sleeves before nodding to him. He was left alone, watching Gwen stand up and wave to the audience. She walked back over to him, “Break a leg.”

Peter smiled at her as she went by. A stagehand came up, gesturing for him to follow. Peter was lead closer and told to stay there until his cue. He rubbed his hands against the jacket, doing his best to straighten himself out.

“From District 12, our last tribute but most definitely not our least favorite. Please give him a round of applause. Peter Parker!” The speaker’s voice boomed with the mic as Peter stepped out onto the stage, trying not to look down at his feet. He thought to himself, ‘ _ Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Don’t trip. _ ’, over and over until he was standing in front of an outrageously dressed man. He was taken aback for a moment as he stared up at the man. He watched lips moving, but heard no words, not even the audience cheering.

“What?” Peter stumbled out, gaining laughter as the speaker smoothly chuckled.

“A little nervous Peter?”

He flushed a little before nodding. Some audience members cooed while the speaker gestured for Peter to sit down.

“Quite alright. Everything must be quite new to you.”

He nodded, “Everything here is just… far bigger than what I thought it would be.”

“Oooh? How so?” The man leaned forward.

“Well. The rooms I’ve been staying in are about as big as my Aunt and Uncle’s apartment.”

That gained him a few laughs, even the speaker chuckled, “I can see how that can be rather jarring, but our tributes deserve the best do they not folks?”

The crowd roared with applause and cheers before slowly calming down. The speaker turned his body more towards Peter as though this was a more intimate setting, “Now Peter, how are you feeling about the games tomorrow?”

“Nervous.” He answered honestly. His short statement caused him to pause as he glanced out to the audience. He needed some of these people to like him, so he pushed out more words, “But I’m going to do my family proud tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you will. How did your Aunt and Uncle feel about you going in your last year in the games?”

Peter schooled his expression, trying his best to keep it as neutral and open as possible. Even though he wanted desperately to snark and scream, he gave everyone a sad smile, “Heartbroken. We were going to celebrate after the drawing.”

“Celebrate how?”

“I’m not sure. I think we were going to splurge and make something adventurous. We could have… used some fun.” Peter’s voice lowered to a whisper by the end of his sentence.

“Well, you’ll be able to have that celebration when you return from the games.” The speaker sounded so confident that Peter gave a more genuine smile.

“That’s what I’m hoping to do.”

“Did you have any words that you wished to tell your family?”

“Aunt May, Uncle Ben. I love you both and… I’ll do you proud.” Peter sat up straighter and the crowd ate up the sudden confidence.

“Peter Parker, folks!”

~*~

[Look at him]

{Scared little rabbit about to be sent to slaughter}

[And you thought you could save him]

{Idiot}

[Moron]

The carrier was quiet as it carried Wade, Death and Peter to the arena. Wade watched as Peter kept rubbing at the spot where they injected the tracker. He offered no words of encouragement, but remained silent as he thought back to the prior week. Things had been challenging to say the least. The punch to his face helped clear his head, enough to realize that he may have been coming on a little strong.

The apology that he truly didn’t mean, only to be called out on that and told to apologize to Nessa and Gwen. He hated the smug look Nessa kept giving him for the rest of that night. It took all of his will power not to punch her. The training was a nice reprieve from having to be social with everyone. He enjoyed the routine of combat training, though it was hard to hold himself back. The voices screamed in his head to push just a little harder to see how big a bruise he could make or if he could make one of them bleed. It was an overwhelming task, but he felt a small amount of sanity that brought him around to being conscious.

[That’s okay. We’ll make you suffer for ignoring us]

{We’ll taunt you while you watch the rabbits die}

[They’ll be paste on the arena floor soon.]

{And then you’ll have to explain to a whole bunch of people why these little rabbits are dead}

[They’ll blame you.]

{They’ll always blame you}

Wade’s hand trembled as he found purchase in his bracelet. He fiddles with it, spinning it with a fair amount of resistance. The scrap of metal and rubber against his hidden scars gave him something to focus on. The faint buzzing of propellers filled the silent cabin of the plane as he thought of what he could possibly say to Peter before he entered the arena.

[He’ll go squish]

{Why grow so attached to these pair? You know what will happen.}

[They’ll die just like every other pair]

{And it’ll be all your fault}

Wade gritted his teeth, leaning his head forcefully into the back of the seat. He closed his eyes, mentally counting to try and keep his mind off the voices.

[We’ll always be here]

{We’re your prize for murdering so many children}

[So much blood is on your hands]

The flight took less time than expected and they were all hurried into a tunnel. Death silently lead Peter and Wade to the correct room. They waited until both of the boys walked in before closing the door. The room was barren excluding the outfit that hung alone on a rack. Wade’s eyes glanced over it, noticing the thin fabric. He wasn’t able to get a clean look before Death snatched it up and walked over to Peter.

“Put this on. You will not have a lot of time to prepare before it will be your turn in the arena.”

Wade watched Peter take the clothes and stepped behind a partition to gather himself. Death stepped into Wade’s line of sight and gave him a firm and stern look. He grimaced and looked over to the platform.

“Don’t go to the cornucopia. There is nothing there that is worth your life.” Wade tried to keep his voice steady as the words spilled without resistance, “If you grab anything, grab what’s laid outside when you run. Don’t stay there.”

Zippers were Wade’s only response as he racked his brain for any other tips he could give, “Always be aware of traps. These games are going to be uglier and the tributes will be the same.”

Peter stepped out from the partition and Death was on him, straightening up his outfit, muttering low words to him.

“Never stay in one place long. Shelter will need to be mobile. If you stay in one place too long, you could be trapped and killed.” Wade’s voice was taking on a bit of a frantic edge as he started to rub his hands together.

“If you get separated from Gwen, don’t do anything stupid. Survive on your own. If you don’t hear a cannon or see her portrait, she’s fine.”

Death mumbled a little louder, “This arena will be hard. You must be careful of the extremes.”

“Water and food should be your first tasks. Without water you will dehydrate in 3 days and die within 10. Food… well you’re from 12, you’ll figure it out.” Wade began pacing, while Death ushered Peter closer to the platform.

“Find a weapon off another tribute or make your own. You have a strong punch, so fists should be okay, but you don’t know how strong those other tributes are.”

“Be smart Peter Parker. Be quick.” Death put their hands on Peter’s cheeks, nodding to him before pulling away.

Wade’s frantic tone caused his words to come out faster as he began picking at his hands, “If it comes down to it, play the waiting game and let them sort it out. You know how to surv-”

Peter silences him with a look and gives Wade an uneasy smile, “You did your best Wade. It’s my turn now. I’ll do my best.”

A red light flared up as Peter turned his back to the both of them, stepping onto the platform. A tube closed around him as he turned back to them. He kept his smile on while the platform slowly lifted. Wade watched him until Peter disappeared above. He let out small panicked breaths until Death placed a hand on his arm, “He will survive Wade.”

“How do you know?”

“Consider it a feeling. Worry for the other one.” Death’s brows furrowed as they turned their gaze back to where Peter once was, “I fear what may come of her.”

~*~

Peter could feel his heart threatening to escape out of his chest. He spared a moment to cover his chest, muttering words to calm himself down, “You’ll be okay.”

“You can do this.”

“You and Gwen will do this.”

A blinding light forced Peter to shield his eyes as he was brought up in a circle. To each side of him were tributes on their own platforms, looking around the arena. The cornucopia sat in between them all. It was formed out of twisted metals and looked like it would do far more harm than good. The world around them was bathed in reds and oranges, desert plateaus jutted out from the sandy tundra. Red rocks broke from the sand, showing cracks that Peter was sure were traps.

He looked around until he saw Gwen a few platforms down. She made eye contact, nodding as a signal.

“Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight.” A hologram number displayed over the cornucopia ticking down to the start of the hunger games.


	4. Pain

Peter watched the timer tick down, feeling the numbers shift matching his heartbeat. His leg began to jitter as he saw the other tributes begin to crouch. He silently prayed that some of them weren’t crazy enough to try and go to cornucopia. He glanced back at Gwen who’s own grim face matched Peter’s thoughts.

The computerized voice kept counting down, “Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.”

It droned on as Peter watched the holograph's numbers change. He slid his foot back, glancing over to Gwen once more only to see her staring at the timer. He spared one moment to silently pray to May and Ben that if he did die, they wouldn't be forced to see it. He closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut as he panic-thought of other prayers.

“Three. Two. One. Happy Hunger Games.” A trill alarm blared out and Peter's eyes shot open. He lurched forward, stumbling off the platform towards the cornucopia. He had to quickly right himself as he changed direction away and into the canyon environment. He mentally wished that there were some trees or some kind of cover, but he didn't spare a single extra second staying there. He couldn't hear much besides his heavy breathing and his own feet hitting rock as he kept racing forward. Behind him, he could hear the carnage followed by cannon fire. He squeezed his eyes shut as his mind offered mental images for what could be happening behind him.

The environment curved downwards into ravines that splintered away from the raised platform of their starting zone. The loose rock and sand made it difficult for Peter to navigate as he was forced to move slower. His first task was to get as much distance between himself and everyone else. He spared a moment to think of Gwen and hope that they would be able to find each other soon. Peter wasn't sure how far he had run, but he did notice the canyon walls had grown far taller than before and offered small alcoves to hide.

He puffed out breaths as he dodged into one that was set further back and offered complete coverage from anyone trying to glance below. He let his back hit the rock wall before wheezing out for breath, letting his muscles scream from overexertion. The adrenaline was draining away, leaving him with tremors raking throughout his body. He wanted to curl up on himself, but knew better than to do that.

After the last cannon fired off, the arena became eerily silent. The wind blew by the opening causing a whistle but everything else around him was still. Peter tried to think back to how many cannons had been fired, but found that he hadn't paid attention. He didn't even have a chance to grab anything, but he was alive and that was a good start.

It was at that moment that Peter thought about where Gwen could be. They couldn't have planned a meet up without knowledge of where they would be placed. They had agreed on the nearest water source to the cornucopia as long as it was safe. He tried to temper the thought that Gwen hadn't gotten lucky to get away. He tried to drown that thought with the hope that Gwen was smarter than Peter and had grabbed something.

He sat in his alcove for a while, letting his body recoup before trekking out to get an understanding of where he would be for the time. Over time, small sounds from the world started. Animals were coming out and Peter could hear faint sounds of birds flying over head, echoing throughout the ravine. He listened to the arena coming to life and made sure to listen intently for any sudden silence.

As the sun shifted, Peter finally moved out of the alcove. He kept his eyes clear as he glanced around the ravine for any other people or above for anyone walking overhead. He kept his footsteps as silent as he could on the rock and sand, exploring how far the ravine went.

As he walked, he noticed the walls growing taller until they hid most of the light. He tilted his head up to look at the sliver of blue sky, “This would be a good place to hide.” He mumbled to himself until he looked ahead and noticed a drop that plunged into darkness. He rubbed at the back of his neck, curious for what might be at the bottom. Peter shook his head before turning around and walking away. He wasn't here to examine the arena, he needed to focus on surviving. He needed to find Gwen and he needed to find water.

It took the remaining afternoon to get back to the opening that he had ran through and took a few attempts to climb out. The shifting sands and loose rock made it difficult for him to find a good footing. He slowed his pace as he was able to peer overhead, wanting to make sure there was no one nearby.

With the sun beginning to set, he knew he would have cover of dark, but he feared what may come out at night, especially on the first day. Peter sprinted out of the ravine, taking cover behind a rock pillar.

“If I was Gwen, where would I go?” He mumbled to himself as he poked his head out to take a look at the surroundings. His first thought was to find cover in trees or overgrowth, but the whole arena was nothing but rock and sand so that idea was mute. He needed to find water and he would bet that Gwen would try to find it as well. He silently prayed that the Gamemaker was kind enough to provide some form of water.

He pushed away from the rock pillar, keeping his eyes open for any movement as he pushed away from the canyons behind him and towards the more stable environment ahead. It was eerie how silent the arena was as he walked around with no interactions from any other tributes. He knew there would be people at the cornucopia, so he made sure to give it a wide berth, but where was everyone else? Did they happen to run into the different canyons? How many of them were even still alive?

As if to answer some of his questions, a shrill sound of the Panem anthem blared as different portraits appeared in the sky. Peter stopped, looking at the encroaching night sky, counting each photo. Six. Only six of them had died at the cornucopia, which meant there were far more people within the arena than normal. He felt relief knowing that there were people out there that were smart enough to not go for the trap.

His walk was strangely enjoyable as the sky filled with small twinkling stars. He glanced up to look at them occasionally, feeling a small amount of homesickness for District 12's stars. He wondered if they were real stars or if they were merely projections. His only companion was his footsteps colliding with sand and rock. Between glances towards the sky, he did his best to try and find a reflective surface that might indicate water.

It was well into the night as exhaustion pulled heavily at Peter that he found it. It was a pitiful excuse for a watering hole, but there it was all the same. It sat still, reflecting the stars like a mirror and Peter was hesitant to approach it. There were small amounts of vegetation wrapped firmly around it, acting like a barrier to keep others out. He looked around, hoping that Gwen would be somewhere nearby, but an endless horizon was all he saw. A brief moment of uncertainty washed over Peter as he saw no sign of Gwen.

Peter turned his attention back to the oasis and cataloged the best places to stay warm and safe for the night. It took a moment before his feet moved for him and he climbed into one of the sturdier looking palm trees. It took a bit of balancing to be secure once he got himself situated beneath the wide brimmed leaves. He fell asleep midway through covering himself, head propped against a curled leaf.

“Psst!”

He waved his hand in the air as if to smack at a fly. Peter tried to nestle back into his uncomfortable perch in an attempt to get a little more sleep.

“Peter! I swear!” Gwen's voice sounded firm but hurried.

Peter's eyes snapped open, sitting straight up and nearly unbalancing himself enough to go falling off. He caught himself, digging the rough bark into his hands. He winced as blurry eyes frantically bounce around. A few blinks later, Peter sees Gwen. She's covered in red dust but she has a smile on her face.

“Gwen?”

“Get out of that tree, Pete. We have to keep moving.”

Almost as quickly as he made it up into the tree, Peter made it out with only minor scrapes and indented skin. He flung his arms around her, pulling her in tight enough that he could hear her breath escape with a grunt. Gwen returns the hug for a moment before pushing out of his tight grip. She shoved a canteen into his hands and pointed to the water, “Fill this up.”

Mindlessly he goes over to the water, dipping the canteen in until it's full. He walks back over to Gwen to see her keeping an eye on the horizon. He shook off the extra water before returning to Gwen's side. She offered him a smile as Peter offered her the canteen, “No you keep it. I was able to get a couple of things when I ran.”

“Do we have time to talk about this here?”

“I think so. It really was only the canteen, rope and a knife.” She patted the rope that laid against her chest and the knife at her hip, “You hold onto the canteen, so we're both carrying something.”

“I hope these suits are going to be enough to keep us warm at night.” Peter mumbled.

“You seemed to be just fine.” Gwen laughed, “Then again, you were running on adrenaline.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but a cannon sounded off, causing them both to jump. They shared a brief look. Gwen nodded her head away and Peter offered a silent nod of acknowledgement. The sky was still dark but the stars had begun to fade that indicted time. He knew they would need to get out of the desert before the sun got too high or they would cook. The trip back to the canyons and what little underbrush was stubborn enough to grow was far shorter than what Peter remembered earlier.

The sun had poked out as they gave the cornucopia a wide berth once again. Their trek together was silent but thankfully not awkward or tense. Peter had opened his mouth a couple of times to try and start some kind of conversation but always thought better of it. When the sun grew high, they found shelter within the small cut outs in the rocks.

The second day was rough on both of them as they adjusted to each other within their new dangerous environment. They took turns sleeping, making sure someone was always awake to keep an eye out for any other tributes. It was almost lonely with how silent the arena was. Peter sat near the edge, giving Gwen the privacy to sleep in peace and to have a better eye out for anything coming their way. He pulls his knees close to his chest as he rests his head against one knee, tilting his face upwards towards the sky. His eyes jump between the different shades of blue as he quietly says, “You know, I've always wondered how the sky could be so blue.”

At first, silence answers Peter, which is what he expected. He let out a puff of breath, “I know why it's blue but it always seemed so much brighter whenever I wasn't at home. The sky seems more full and darker in 12.”

“We mine coal Peter.” Gwen's voice replied as barely a whisper.

“I know that but it seems like it's something else that affects it.” Peter glanced back at him, “It's probably aliens, right?” Gwen looked at Peter as though he had grown a second head but bursting into laughter. Peter cracked a smile before joining her laughter. They laughed until they had tears in their eyes and the laughing petered out. A cannon fired and whatever smiles were left quickly faded away.

“We'll make it out of this.” Gwen's voice was firm. He wanted so badly to believe her, but something told him otherwise. He looked back at her and thought ' _ I hope you make it out of this. _ ' He gave her a brief smile before returning to his shift on look out.

The next few days passed the same way. Each of them taking shifts for sleep, traveling to the oasis only at the dead of night and never sleeping in the same place. They never ran into any other tributes but they always heard the cannon fires each day. Over the past few days there had been a total of 4 deaths. A morbid part of Peter's curiosity wondered how they died; if they had been killed by a fellow tribute or if the environment had taken them.

Food had been sparse and hard to find when they were mobile. The small lizards and rabbits were fast. It was a vicious cycle of being exhausted from lack of food but having to be fast enough to grab the food. There were a couple of those days that neither had anything to eat and went to sleep hungry.

“It's a good thing we're from 12.” Gwen remarked while they traveled to the oasis one night. Peter was taking a sip from their near empty canteen.

“We're fairly used to starving already.” Gwen offered a forced giggle.

Peter clenched his jaw, covering up the canteen, “Not as much as others.” Gwen made a noise of acknowledgement but the conversation died after that. The only sound in the air was their footsteps dragging against the loose sands. When they got close, Peter noticed the once full leaves seemed duller and more curled than before. His feet took him forward as he spent an amount of energy that he didn't have rushing forward. Some of the leaves crumbled as he pushed past but they weren't his focus. The water that had once filled a decent pool was nearly gone. A small crater of wet sands and rock laid in its place. He tumbled forward as he stepped into the inch of water that remained. He heard Gwen gasp around him but rage filled his heart as he let out a shout, “YOU FUCKERS! Not even an OUNCE of compassion!?”

He wanted to scream and kick and punch everyone but instead he fell to his knees, splashing what little water was left. He clutched the canteen in his hands, listening to the leather groan beneath his finger tips. He felt a piece of him just wanting to give in and accept his death right then and there. But the stronger part of him uncapped the canteen and dip it as carefully as if it were the most precious gem in the world. When the canteen was as full as he could possibly make it, he stood up, pants drenched with what water they absorbed. He looked up at Gwen with a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before, “Welcome to the games Gwen.”

~*~

Rationing water became the biggest struggle between the two. Both of them wanted the other to drink more. Food grew more scarce and there had been another cannon fire earlier that morning. Peter knew deep down, the tributes were dying more from the harsh environment than each other. He felt sick to his stomach when he felt relief for those whose portraits passed across the sky. It was one less person who was taking supplies and one less person suffering in the arena.

Peter propped himself against a rock formation while he let Gwen rest in the shade. There were still 13 more people within the arena and Peter was starting to grow antsy with not seeing a single one of them. It was eerie and the games were already starting to go on for a few weeks now. He worried at his dust covered jacket trying not to think about what the Gamemaker might have up their sleeves. It wasn't exciting to see people die because of the environment, where was the thrill in seeing someone slowly suffer? He tugged a little harder on his jacket as he thought back to the blur of the Capitol's excitement population. No, they wanted to see the thrill of the kill.

He tensed his jaw as he removed his hands from his jacket and checked to make sure he still had the canteen. His hand twitches when he first didn't feel it, a flood of anxiety running through him. It quickly evaporated when he finally found it after it had jostled away from him and his nervous fingers. He grabbed the strap and pulled it over his shoulder, feeling more secure with it on him. He let out a breath as he leaned his head against the jagged rocks. He looked out to the blinding red and orange environment around him, feeling exhausted beyond his years.

He told himself that he needed to be alert, that anyone could come up and take two kills easily, but his body refused. Days without proper food and water, one moment his eyes were open and then next his eyelids were too heavy to lift. He fell into a light sleep. He dreamed that he was at home. The home was a strange mixture of May and Ben's building but also his childhood home in 3. He walked through the door and it was set up like May's shop but looked far bigger than it could ever be. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but he couldn't speak. He walked forward and saw his mother standing behind the counter. She looked exactly the way she did the last time Peter saw her and he felt his throat growing tight.

She looked up from what she was doing and a warm smile grew on her face. She didn't say anything as she walked up to him. Peter stood frozen, looking at her, unsure what to do. She cupped her hands on Peter's face, rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks. Her smile grew as she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Hello my love.”

He felt his eyes try to well up with tears that his body couldn't physically produce. He could feel his mom's warmth radiating off of her body as she pulled back, tilting his head downward so they were looking into each other's eyes. She kept rubbing his cheeks, “Stay strong Peter. No matter what, remember how strong you are.”

The vision of his mother began to shake. Her hands vibrating violently against his face. He looks startled at her. He blinks once and sees his mother standing within a shaking room. The second time he blinks, he is sitting straight up, blurry-eyed and staring outwards to a shaking arena. It took a few seconds for Peter to realize that the shaking was actually happening around him. The sounds of rocks colliding into the surface echoed throughout the ravines and against the rock structures around them.

His eyes grow wide as he realizes what is going on. The shaking grows more violent and he can see a shift in the horizon's normally straight line. Jagged pieces of rocks were jutting out as wide cracks rapidly made their approach towards them. He scrambles over to Gwen, shaking her, “Gwen! Gwen, get up!”

He wasn't sure if it was the shaking from himself or the violent rumbling around them that woke Gwen up. She looks directly in Peter's eyes, “Run.”

Peter bolts up, pulling a stumbling Gwen with him. The environment around them was crumbling. The rock structures that they had gotten used to seeing were collapsing onto the ground and the cracks forming in the earth beneath them. The sickening groan of rock colliding with rock reverberated around them, spurring them forward. He glanced down to see the cracks racing ahead of them. Peter's heart was pounding in his chest as he listened to the world around them roar with disastrous life.

The cracks were growing bigger as the environment ahead of them was crumbling and they were turning into ravines. Peter's grip on Gwen's hand grew tight as he yanked her away from the ravines and the shifting environment. He tried to stay ahead of everything falling apart, but they were being caged off.

Peter glanced back to shout something at Gwen, but a loud snap sounded. Where Gwen was once standing was clear air and Peter was being tugged downwards. He landed against the ground, air escaping his lungs as he felt his shoulder being yanked. He lets out a shout of pain as he instinctively grips his hand around Gwen's hand. He looks down to see her throwing her other hand onto his wrist and holding onto him, the world rumbling around them as the ravine grows wider and rocks tumble downwards into an open chasm that had no bottom.

“Gwen!” Peter shouts out as he tries to flex his arm to pull her up, but his exhausted body refuses, only lifting her an inch or so. He lets out a hoarse sob as he rolls his body to grip her other hand on his wrist. He pants out breaths as he tries to once again fill his own lungs with the oxygen that was forced out.

What feels like an eternity passes when it was only a few minutes before the world around them settles into its new setting. Peter refuses to look around, holding eyes with Gwen as he tries desperately to pull her up, failing each time as his muscles scream at him to stop. His shoulder throbs as he lets out a shout of frustration. Gwen stares back into Peter's eyes with fear but determination. Ever so often her eyes dart around to the ravine wall in front of her, trying to find some kind of foothold.

“Peter.”

“No! We're getting out of this Gwen. I'll... I'll figure this out!” It was hard to speak with his throat so tight as he tried once again to pull her up. A painful jolt shoots through his shoulder, loosening his grip involuntarily as he lets out a shout of pain. Gwen's grip on his wrist tightens as he regains his grip. He turns his gaze to stare at the wall, gritting his teeth.

Cannon fire blasts around them, though neither pays attention long enough to count. All Peter could hear was blood pounding and the panting breaths from himself or Gwen; he couldn't really tell anymore.

“Peter...” Gwen's voice sounded so distant but a new sound of other tributes sounded so loud. He tilted his head to glance back, seeing no one but knowing they were there. His panting grows more panicked at the thought that now the other tributes were finally showing themselves. He glanced back to Gwen and then to where the tributes might be.

One glance back to Gwen and he noticed a change in her expression. A sad smile but eyes filled with resolve.

“No.”

“Peter, I'm not going to be able to get out of this.”

“No! No no no...”

“You're going to have to let go, Peter.”

“I won't!”

“You can't hold on forever and there are tributes out there. They'll kill us both.”

“I won't let you die Gwen!”

“You're not letting me die Peter.”

“If I let go, I will be! You need to survive!”

“And so do you. Let me go. Let me make this choice when all my other choices were taken from me.”

Peter's dry eyes tried their best to well with tears. They glazed over as he stared desperately down at Gwen, “Please.”

“It'll be okay Pete. Do me a favor, okay?”

He sniffled as he nodded, gripping his hands around hers. Her sad smile faded a little, “Keep an eye on MJ for me. She'll get into all kinds of trouble without me. You're going to have to keep her in check.”

Peter let out a hoarse laugh, closing his eyes and nodded. Gwen squeezed her hand, “Tell my parents I love them and that my brothers will have to watch over them.”

Gwen removed her hand from Peter's wrist, but Peter refused to let go, holding it against his wrist. He clenched his eyes closed as he shook his head, “I can't.”

“I know. Win the games for me.” She let go of his hand and Peter could feel her slipping. He tried to hold on but he felt more of his body sliding over the edge as her fingers loosened from him.

“Gwen!” He cried out, gripping at empty air as she disappeared into the chasm beneath. He stared into the void, shouting, “NO! GWEN!”

A few moments passed, wind whistling through the ravine until it was cut through by the cannon fire. He let a sob be torn from his body as he remains where he was. The voices of the other tributes grow louder as Peter feels himself falling apart. He takes in quick breaths as he glances behind him, feeling a wave of hopelessness wash over him. He could hear a small part of him that is telling him to give up, let the tributes come and kill him. But his body reacts without him, pushing away on one arm. He races away from the new ravine and the voices that were growing quieter with each step.

His breaths came out in uneven gasps as he ran. He doesn't stop until the sun is heavily shaded and he lets himself collapse into the ground. He lets out a sobbed breath as he cries with no tears.

~*~

The passage of time was odd for Peter. It felt like Gwen had fallen mere hours ago but other times it felt like days. He hadn't moved from the alcove that he had found shortly after collapsing. He did remember seeing the portraits of all 9 tributes that had fallen to the earthquake, but it felt like seconds ago.

His shoulder had started to throb with pain at random intervals over whatever time had passed. Sometimes it grew so bad that Peter would pass out from clenching his jaw, some feeling to his hand was growing numb. And yet he couldn't bring himself to pop it back in. He stared at the shaded wall, clenching his eyes closed and opening them in hopes that Gwen would suddenly appear.

She never did and each time, the sinking feeling in his stomach grew. Or perhaps that was having nothing to eat. He questioned why everyone seemed to die around him. His parents were outside of his grasp but it didn't stop the guilt of living without them. Gwen was his fault. He let go. He should have been stronger to pull her up. Sde shouldn't have died.

His thoughts spiraled out of control that a chiming noise barely broke through. He grunted as he rolled his body over, careful not to agitate his shoulder. Laying on the ground before him was a parachute just out of arm's reach. His face pushed into the cool rock as he stared listlessly at the parachute. After everything, now was when he received a sponsor gift.

He wanted to feel angry. He wanted to shout, but he couldn't find the energy in himself to do anything. Instead, Peter shuffled his body against the rock close enough to grab the parachute and open the case. He stared at it for a moment, not sure what exactly it was he was looking at.

A small piece of paper sat propped up against a black ribbon. Peter squinted his eyes to make out the words 'Do it for Gwen. - W'. He reached out his hand, pulling the ribbon loose. He recognized it, but his exhausted brain wouldn't offer any answer. Clutching the ribbon in his hands, he felt his eyelids grow heavier until he slipped into a restless sleep.

There were no dreams this time, but when Peter woke up, he felt better. His body still ached from lack of water and food; his shoulder still throbbed but he felt more alert that he had. The ribbon remained firmly in his hands and he brought his attention back to it. He knew this ribbon. Gwen would always wear this ribbon whenever they were out in the forest with MJ. He never asked where she got it. He regretted that he would never be able to ask her now.

He clenched his hand into a fist as he brought the ribbon close to his chest, quietly speaking, “I'm sorry Gwen. I'm... so fucking sorry.”

His throat was far too dry to think about crying. Instead, he rolled onto his back and put the ribboned hand against his injured shoulder. He stared up at the ceiling as he mouthed a countdown before applying enough pressure to pop his shoulder back into place. He opened his mouth, letting out a painful gasp before shutting his mouth firmly, biting hard on his lower lip. A whine escaped as he pushed again until he felt relief flooded his body. His shoulder was still throbbing but it didn't feel like the jolt of pain from before. He still couldn't fully feel it, but he hoped that would solve itself.

He laid on the alcove floor for a movement before sitting up with a small amount of trepidation. Peter remained ginger with his shoulder, but wrapped Gwen's ribbon around his numb wrist where she had held tight to him. He stared down at it once he was sure it would be secure, “I'll try Gwen. I'll try to win for you.”

Looking outside his den, he realized how vulnerable he had left himself. He couldn't let that happen again. He wouldn't let that happen. Peter stayed where he was until the throbbing in his shoulder dulled and he hesitantly tested its strength. He left his temporary home, taking stock of the ravine that he had found himself. The jagged lines of the walls spoke back to the sudden and drastic shifting that the arena had. He felt for the canteen, testing the weight to guess how much was left within it.

He took a small sip, barely enough to offer any relief to his thirst but enough that he could push forward a while longer. The sun overhead was beginning to set, casting heavy shadows against the ground. Peter glanced at them occasionally as he found his way out. Once to the surface, the sun's light barely a glimpse on the jagged horizon as Peter took a catalogue on the barren environment. Where there had once been rock structures and stubborn brush, there was nothing. Only red rock and orange sand covered all flat surfaces available. He scanned around him for any threats before he hurried towards the cornucopia.

It was mainly curiosity that pulled him towards the metal monstrosity, but if it remained unscathed, then maybe there was still some amount of supplies there that he could use. He tried to keep his hopes down as the sun finally disappeared and the night took over, leaving a chill in the air. He pushed ahead until he found himself standing a safe distance away.

The cornucopia stood, or more appropriately, a portion of it stood. Half of it was crushed beneath rocks and ground that had been ripped out from under it. Peter stayed where he was, waiting to see any kind of movement before he allowed himself to quietly push ahead. He took each step as though he was walking on broken glass. It was monotonous and dragged on but when he finally made it, he let out a small puff of relief.

He glanced around the structure, trying to gauge what items were still there, which proved difficult with the lack of proper lighting. Peter carefully walked within what little shelter it provides, ducking behind the rocks for cover and let himself pass out once again. His head propped uncomfortably against the rock and his still numb arm.

The next morning came with little fanfare and he was able to gather a few mechanical supplies that he needed. A small amount of feeling had come back to his arm, but he couldn't feel anything when he gripped it. He wanted to be worried, but decided that would be a future Peter problem. For now, he needed to get what he needed to survive. Peter couldn't remember how many tributes were still alive, but he planned for any amount. He was going to make a last stand at the cornucopia. He was done running around the arena.

It took a day and a half to make the different traps and set them up, thanks to the lack of tools; but when he was done, he stood in front of the broken mouth of the cornucopia. He glanced around, double checking where each trap was and what it did before flopping onto the ground and waited.

The sun had begun to set, throwing a golden hue over the destroyed arena. Peter had nestled into a partially shielded section of the broken monstrosity. He shivered from the cold that radiated from the metal as it lost its heat source. He tried to tell himself to get some sleep but couldn't find a comfortable position or nerves refused to let him rest. He stared at the jagged lines of metal in front of him. The wires hanging loose that were too high for him to grab to salvage for his own purposes. He cursed himself while he made the mines that were buried around him. He couldn't help but feel like his parents when they indirectly affect the games with their experiments.

He pulled tighter as his thin jacket, running his hands over the sleeves to produce more heat. There was a disturbing stillness to the arena that made Peter nervous. He didn't know who the other tributes were or where they were, but he wanted to go home. He wanted this nightmare to finally end. His thoughts were interrupted by a shrill pop. Peter's head whipped around his shelter to see someone laying on their side, stunned. He moves to stand up but the mine's secondary feature goes off with a large bang. He watches the canyon edge crumble, taking the stunned body with it. He feels sick to his stomach when the cannon fire cracks through the air a moment later.

Peter slides back down, covering his mouth as he tries to come to terms with what he just did. His fingers dig into his cheek as he clenches his eyes closed tight. His breath grows ragged as he tries his best to calm himself down. It takes a few minutes but he finally gets his breathing back under control long enough to hear a secondary pop from the opposite side. He decides not to look, covering his ears from the bang that followed. It's muffled but he can still hear the crumbling of the rocks and the cannon fire that follows after. He feels sick to his stomach as he tries not to picture the tribute.

It had been days since the last trap had sounded off. He nervously ran his fingers through his longer hair, messing up the greasy mop of hair. There was one more person out there. One more tribute that was trying to win as desperately as Peter was. It was sitting heavy on his mind as he tried not to think about the tribute's family.

Peter tries to find a distraction, anything to get his mind off of thinking. He reached for his long empty canteen, finding a small amount of comfort in holding a solid object. He smacks his chapped lips as he stares at it, wishing there was still even the smallest drops of water within it. Leaning his head back against the metal wall, he hopes that the other tribute will come soon. Dying to the elements wasn't high on his list of ways to go.

A snap sounds outside and his head immediately swivels to where it came from. He attempts to get up but falters and falls to his hands and knees. He lets out a few pants of breath before pushing himself up, wobbly and seeing black spots edge into his vision. He held himself against the wall until the black receded enough to not hamper him.

When it did, he stepped out of the ruined cornucopia, standing as straight as he could even with the tremor of exertion running through his limbs. Standing across from him was another tribute, their body skeletal as they stared back at Peter. They stood where they were, never moving and Peter was sure that neither had the energy to make any attack.

The hot air around them was stifling as they stood in an exhausted standoff. The other tribute fell to one knee and Peter could hear their wheezed panting. Peter's own knees were wobbling as he tried to stay standing, clenching his hands into fists, trying to will his body to have more strength than it did. The tribute let their other knee fall to the ground as they looked remorseful at Peter. They opened their mouth to say something but closed it and sent Peter a half smile as their body fell forward, kicking up sand and dust around them. Peter took a step forward, falling to one knee as a cannon fired off.

“Ladies and gentlemen. The 49th's Hunger Games victor, Peter Parker of District 12.”

The computerized voice sounded distant as the black that had edged around his vision overtook him. He falls to his side, feeling the hard ground before passing out.

~*~

He woke up intermittently to people dressed in white, poking and prodding him. He could hear low murmurs of talking about his condition and his arm, but he always fell back unconscious before he could hear anymore. When he was able to stay more awake, they had one of the doctors explain what had happened. Peter stared at him, dead-eyed as they told him there was nerve damage to his arm and he may never be able to fully feel with a majority of his hand. They told him that he was below a healthy weight and expected him to take care of it. The doctor left with no further word of encouragement or mention of help.

Peter sat on the hospital bed and watched numbly as a few people shuffled around the room, preparing it for the next patient. A nurse came in and gestured for Peter to leave and when he made no move, she forcefully escorted him out. He stood in the lobby of the hospital, staring at the revolving doors and felt no desire to move. What was the point of it? He won, but it didn't feel like anything.

He didn't win.

It was Death who came to gather him back to the temporary housing they were sticking him in, while the train was being prepared. He didn't say a word and he was thankful when Death didn't say anything either. He wasn't sure what to say, but he couldn't hear another person congratulating him. They traveled by foot and Peter appreciated the air, even if it was heavily scented by roses and a sickeningly sweet scent that he couldn't place. Death kept a hand firmly placed on Peter's shoulder, guiding them by the hordes of people that were trying to come up to them. One stern glare from Death and they quickly backed away. He let out a shaky breath and Death offered a squeeze as understanding.

They walked up to a home where the sounds of the train were blaring in the background. Peter winced at the loud sounds, but he jumped when the front door was flung open. He took a step back, but wasn't able to get too far thanks to Death's grip. Vanessa stood in the doorway, looking at Peter with a pride that sickened his stomach.

“Welcome back Peter.” Vanessa's voice was far softer than the way she opened the door. She joined him and wrapped him up into a tight hug. Peter let out a whine and a grimace as his face was buried into Vanessa's shoulder. He could hear footsteps disappearing into the building.

Death's voice called back, “Let him breath and come inside.”

Vanessa's grip vanishes and the grimace slips from his face as he pushes away from her and walks inside. Vanessa stood outside, a small painful expression on her face. Peter didn't spare another moment to look at his surroundings and instead went up the stairs to find a bedroom. The door shut without a slam but felt that way.

He could hear voices from downstairs but he couldn't make anything out. Peter walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, staring down at his hands. He wasn't sure how long he was alone in the room or when the voices had stopped from downstairs. But his silence was interrupted by a knock.

“Peter? Can I come in?” It was Vanessa again and Peter couldn't find it within himself to say anything. There was an awkward amount of silence before Vanessa pushed open the door, poking her head in. She smiled at him and as quietly as she could in heels, walked in and sat next to Peter, “I just wanted to let you know that if you want to talk, I'm here to help.”

Silence was her answer as Peter didn't acknowledge or look at her. He could see her fidget with her hands out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't want to talk. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. He knew he didn't want to talk about it, he couldn't talk about it. He didn't want to relive everything he went through, but he knew he wouldn't allow himself to forget. He lost many things in that arena and most importantly a friend. He still wasn't sure how he was going to face everyone in District 12. He gripped his hands tightly, still feeling alien in the loss of feeling in one hand. He gripped tighter, wanting to cause himself pain.

Vanessa clicked her tongue and put her hand on his, “Peter, don't do this. Don't keep it to yourself. Please talk to me.”

He didn't respond. He heard Vanessa sigh and watched her hand slips away from his, reminding him very much of another hand. The bed shifted as she got up and her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she walked away, “I'll come get you when the train is ready. Take whatever time you need.”

The door closed with a squeak and a click. Peter was alone once again. He didn't move, but he wanted to call out to her. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted to scream and beg. He wanted to demand that things ended differently. He wanted to destroy everything in this room just because it was the Capitol's property. He wanted to cry, but he still felt the phantom pains of dehydration. He could still feel the tightness in his stomach from lack of food. His breaths were coming in uneven bouts and he didn't notice the door opening again. He didn't hear the door close or the heavier weight that shifted the bed and forced him to fall against the firmer body.

“Hey Pete.” Wade's voice cut through his thoughts but he still didn't look at him.

“Did you hear about the two folks who were stranded on a deserted island? Place was filled with all the vegetables and fruits they could eat. One guy looks to the other, 'This is paradise! Because that guy was a vegan. He keeps talking, 'If you want to survive, you'll have to become a vegan too.' The other guy doesn't say anything, just looks at them and picks up a rock.” Wade snorts at his own joke before following up with, “At least you're not a vegan, eh Pete?”

Peter could hear the conviction in Wade's voice. He looks up to see Wade's victorious smirk on his face and a rock being flicked up into the air. His eyes glance between the rock and Wade's face. He couldn't stop the choke that came before a sputter of laughter. His laughter is ugly as he tries to cover his mouth to stop it. It only takes a few beats of laughter before his gasps sound desperate and tears fill Peter's eyes. He rubs at his eyes with his free hand before feeling a hand rest on his back.

“Let it out baby boy.” Wade's voice remained calm as he slowly wrapped his arms around Peter's narrow form. Peter's sobs echoed in the room before he tilts his face to bury into Wade's chest to try and stifle his sobs. He felt Wade's arms enclose him, pulling him close as he gently tuts at him. Peter wanted to stop crying, but he couldn't. He wanted to let this out, so he relaxed into Wade's body, gripping at his shirt.

“There you go. I know it's not okay. It never will be, but you're not alone in this, baby boy.” Wade gingerly rocked them both back and forth as he ran his hand up and down his back, “You're not alone. You'll get through this. I'll be here to help.”

“I will help you Peter.”


	5. Survival

The sun was setting behind the distant fields, painting the tall crops with a deep red. Peter looked out to the crops listlessly. His head partially buried in his arm while he stared out without actually seeing anything. The rumbling from the train offered a comforting white noise that tried to ease his thoughts. The tears that he cried into Wade helped, but not nearly as much as he had hoped. He didn’t want to go back to District 12 and face everyone. How was he supposed to explain everything? He knew everyone had seen it. They had probably heard Gwen’s words and seen her actions. How was he supposed to tell her parents and brothers that they needed to be strong for her when she wasn't around anymore? How was he supposed to even look them in the eyes, knowing that it was his fault that she wasn't there anymore?

He let out a huff of annoyance, pushing his face into the crook of his elbow to block the world out.

~*~

Peter was sitting in the rear car of the train by himself. Wade knew he was there and hated that he was hovering by the door; too much of a coward to walk in and join him.

[What would you even do?]

{Fuck it up, of course}

Wade clenched his fist, staring at the closed door. Should he go in? What was he going to say?

[There is nothing you can do. What makes you think you can solve this boy’s problems when you can’t even face your own?]

{You try so badly to push us out, but we’re never going away.}

[You’re so useless.]

{A waste of space}

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together as he let out a puff of breath. He stepped ahead, letting the automatic door slide open and shut behind him. There was Peter with his face buried into his arm, blocking out the world. He stood still, unsure if he was breaching Peter’s chosen isolation.

[I remember you pathetically hiding in a closet]

{I thought it was the garbage}

[Whining and crying about those tributes you killed]

{Do you even remember that girl’s name?}

[Did you ever care to learn it?]

Wade did his best to cover the wince, but he didn’t think Peter was paying attention. He strode forward with more confidence before letting himself fall onto the bench besides Peter. He gave Peter space, but there was still no response. He knew better than to push. If Peter wanted to talk about the games, then he would talk. No amount of pushing was going to change that. The pair sat in relatively comfortable silence. Wade rubbed his hands together, digging his thumb into some of the scars. He still had a hard time looking at his smooth hand but feeling the reality beneath.

[Would you rather haunt everyone with what you really are?]

{Imagine the screams}

[Imagine the destruction]

He pushed harder on the sensitive skin, letting out a hiss of pain to pull his mind away from dwelling on their words. Wade glanced over to Peter who sat curled up next to him, knees brought close to his body, trying to take up as little space as possible. He felt a twinge of pain go through his heart at that sight.

[Remember when you were just like him?]

{We were never like him. We actively murdered}

[We enjoyed the blood that dripped off our hands]

{I still dream of their screams}

Wade twisted to face Peter as he slapped on a smirk, “How do you get a squirrel to like you?”

Peter’s head shifted a little, one of his brown eyes looking at Wade with a glazed look. He kept his smirk firmly on his face as he chuckled, “Act like a nut.”

Peter scoffed out a laugh as he turned his head to bury it back into his arm to cover up the ugly laugh that came out. Wade’s smirk grew as his chuckled turned throaty. He turned his attention back to the empty room around them. The muffled laughing slows before silence took over once again.

“Your jokes are terrible.” Peter’s voice was hoarse. He sounded terrible and Wade opened his mouth to comment but closed it when he thought better.

“I think you mean amazing there Pete.”

“No… No, I really mean terrible.” A weak smile appeared on Peter’s face for a moment before he tried to cover it up with his hand.

A small victory in Wade’s book as he let himself slide forward on the bench, “We’re not headin’ back to 12 in case you’re curious.”

He looked over to see Peter sitting down, leaning more into Wade’s space, “Where are we going?”

“Funny enough, to the Capitol.”

“But… weren’t we just there?”

“If you think the Capitol has any decent hospitals, then we should have gotten your head checked out.” Wade scoffed as he waved at Peter, “We were in 3, at least that’s what Nessa said. I don’t listen to her too much.”

Peter’s complexion paled for a moment as he stared at Wade with wide eyes. Wade didn’t comment on that, but he made a note for later. Peter’s hands gripped at his loose pants, “So uh…” His voice was squeaky as he stumbled over words, “Why are we… uh… going to the Capitol?”

“This close to a quarter games… This is comin’ from Nessa because I don’t actually care. Apparently President Dickhead is using this as some sort of morale boost or some shit like that.”

“What?”

“A party I’m guessing. He’s going to try and flaunt you around to everyone who has a saying in the districts. I’m guessing he’ll want you to just stand there while he talks everyone’s ear off.”

“I don’t want to go to a party.” Peter’s grip on his pants tightened, pulling tight at the fabric.

Wade let out a sigh as he put a hand on Peter’s leg, patting it gingerly, “I know baby boy. You don’t have a say in this unfortunately.”

Peter’s wide eyed look twisted into a glare, “Why should I party when 23 kids died?” His tone turned heated as he pulled away from Wade. He jerked up as he stormed to the center of the train car.

Wade watched him, “Because they’re using you as an example for why the games are a good thing.”

“They aren’t a good thing!” Peter’s voice was hard.

“You don’t need to tell me that. Don’t forget you’re not the only one who had to live through the nightmare of the arena.” Wade stood up, using his mass to tower over Peter as he walked in front of him. Wade tilted his head down but kept his chin jutted out.

“I don’t want to do this.” There was a tremor coming off of Peter and his tone was shifting very quickly to hysterical.

Letting another sigh come out, Wade put his hands on Peter’s shoulder, “None of us do. All you have to do is show up and let everyone else do the talking. Just stay by Nessa or I and we’ll get you through the night.”

He winced, causing Peter to duck his head, “I don’t want to talk with Nessa.”

“Yeah… I’m gathering that.” Wade squeezed his shoulder, “You can stay by me. I scare ‘em off easily.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but a sharp knock came to the door before it shifted open. Death stood in the doorway, glancing between the two of them, “I must steal Peter now, Wade. He must be getting dressed.”

Wade removed his hands and stepped away from him, “Yeah. Got to make him look nice.”

“I have put your outfit in your room. I will be in later to fix you.”

He waved his hand, “Yeah yeah. I get the hint. I’ll go bother someone.” As Wade walked by Peter, he gave him a wink before stopping by Death, whispering in their ear, “Help him.”

~*~

Peter kept his back to Death, staring at the carpeted floor in front of him. He was focusing on trying to get a hold of his tremors. He let out small puffs of breaths as he listened to Wade’s footsteps disappear and Death coming closer.

“Come now Peter. I must get you ready for tonight.” Death’s voice was surprisingly comforting as he let them lead him back to his new room. There was one small blessing that they had changed his room. He couldn’t go back to the room that he had shared with Gwen. He bit down on his lip as he shuffled along, letting Death guide him. The trek took only a few minutes and Peter stood in the lavish room, staring at a deep blue suit that had silver lines running across the jacket in a jagged web pattern. He walked forward, running his hand over the soft fabric.

“A short bath will do you wonders, Peter.” Death’s voice remained comforting.

“I don’t want to go to this party.” Peter was surprised with how firm his voice sounded.

“Neither does Wade or Vanessa, yet they will be there even if they do not have to go.” Death’s voice was coming a little more distant as they moved around the room to gather what they needed.

“What?” Peter turned to Death, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“The only one who needs to be there is yourself and Weasel. No other victors need to go, but neither wants to leave you to your own devices there.” Death’s long black cloak dragged along behind them as they laid out a few pieces of makeup.

“They don’t trust me?” He bristled, stepping away from the suit.

“No.” Death turned to look at Peter, tilting their head to the side, “They do not wish to leave you within the clutching claws of the Capitol. Both have had their fair share of what those vultures will do.” They strode forward, cupping Peter’s face and tilting it down so he was looking them in the eyes, “You are still healing Peter; within your body but also your soul. Allow them to ease what they can control.”

The small amount of rage that was starting to grow dissolved as he let his shoulders slump forward. Death clicked their tongue and nodded towards the bathroom, “Bath has already been started for you. I will give you time but not too much. I will need to go fix Wade.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but let it click close, nodding. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door as he let the steam wash over him. Stripping of his several day old clothes, he let himself sink into the warm water. He slid completely under the water and stayed there for a few moments. He was tempted to open his eyes but they ached with the warmth leeching in. He opened his mouth to let the air slip out before surfacing. He laid in the tub, staring at the walls. It felt like a lifetime had passed since the games ended. He still wasn’t sure how long he had been in the hospital, but it had only been a week since he was discharged. It had been not long before that when he lost Gwen and nearly died himself. It hadn’t been that long since he listened to cannon fire almost every night.

He dug the heel of his hand into his eyes, rubbing hard enough to blur his vision. He shoved his head under the water once again before surfacing and shaking all the dripping water away. He focused on cleaning himself, trying desperately to scrub the flashing images of Gwen and the other tributes from his mind.

Exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, Death made quick work of dressing him. It was a whirlwind of black before he was shoved into a cushioned bench. Death spoke no words as they applied makeup. They stepped away after what felt like a few moments. He glanced at the mirror and saw very little makeup, it helped ease him a little. When he glanced at Death for an explanation, he only got a wink before being ushered into the suit. He pushed Death away for a small amount of privacy as he pulled his pants on and began to button his shirt. Peter slipped his jacket on as Death stepped forward to do a red bowtie and make minor adjustments.

They stepped back, giving Peter a nod before leaving him alone in his room. He stood awkwardly as he fiddled with the jacket's hem. The rattling of the train filled the silence that hung in the air but not enough for Peter's thoughts to remain quiet. His leg bounced for a moment as his eyes shifted to look around him. He could hear the arena again and the thunderous rumbling of the ground. He dug his fingers into the fabric of the jacket before he lurched forward, frantic to leave the room.

~*~

It was an awkward ride to the presidential palace. The carriage that the four of them had been stuffed into was silent while there were shouts and screams from passersby. No one was saying anything. Wade was staring out the window, giving a smirk to anyone who shouted his name. Vanessa was trying not to look too heavily at Peter or Wade. Weasel was drumming out an off-beat song against his thigh. Peter only glanced up ever so often, keeping his focus on his legs as he picked at the fabric.

Thankfully the ride was short and upon arrival, there were flashes of light as each of them stepped out. Weasel was the first to exit and he scuttled off to the side as Wade followed after. Peter glanced over to Nessa as she gave him a smile. Peter started to get up, but Nessa stood up and shook her head. The audience of clicks and shouts followed her as she left the carriage, Wade helping her down the steps before releasing her hand. Peter took in a deep breath before stepping out himself. The roar of voices and clicks grew causing Peter to lift a hand to shield from the bright lights. He stumbled on a step but a firm hand grabbed his arm and helped him down. Fighting off the dancing orbs blurring his vision, he looked up to Wade offering him a smile. Wade gave his arm a squeeze before lowly saying for only the two of them to hear, “I got you baby boy.”

His nerves settled for a moment while he returned Wade's smile. Weasel was muttering next to them but he couldn't clearly hear what he was saying. Nessa was well ahead of them as the trio followed after her, leaving the cameras and screaming crowds behind them. The noise behind them was exchanged with a soft rumble of conversations between equally extravagant dressed individuals. It was intimidating and infuriating to see all the lavish luxuries around them.

“Peter Parker.” A snide voice that echoed with authority caused his back to go rigid. A snort from Wade let some ease settle onto Peter as he turned around to see President Osborne walking towards him, flanked by several people. Looking at the president, he noticed some things that the holos didn't catch. He was shorter than he always appeared, maybe a few inches taller than Peter but nowhere near as tall as Wade. He was also skinnier, seemed more weaselly than Weasel.

Peter remembered his manners and bowed his head quickly before stammering, “P-president Osborne.”

Wade snorted again. Osborne's eyes jumped from Peter to Wade, “Ah. I didn't see you there Wade. It has been a while.”

“Right.” Wade's tone was chilled and short.

“Do enjoy yourself tonight Wade. It's not every day that 12 gains a victor.” Osborne's tone was dry but yet filled with venom.

Wade forced a toothy smile to the president, taking a step closer to Peter. He could feel the heat coming from him as Wade put a firm hand on Peter's shoulder. He squeezed as he leaned into Osborne's space, “That's so true. So he probably doesn't want to spend all night listening to your pompous words, make it quick so Pete can move on.”

Peter expected the president to start barking at security to wheel Wade away, but instead Osborne had a smirk grow on his face before looking back to Peter, “It seems you have acquired quite the bodyguard Mr. Parker.”

Peter glanced quickly to Wade who was too busy glaring at the president to notice anything else. A quick lift of his shoulders was all the answer he could muster before looking back to the president.

A chuckle replied, “Well when you have a spare moment away from them. Do come find me. I would love to talk to you about those ingenious traps you made within the arena. Quite a skill you have, Mr. Parker.”

There was a murmur from the entourage behind the president. Osborne held out his hand, “Do enjoy yourself tonight. You have earned it.”

Peter stopped midway from taking the president's hand, turning a furrowed brow at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but the president grabbed his hand and firmly shook it before leaving. Peter's mouth was left gaping as he glanced to where the president was leaving to Wade, until he landed on a glare to Wade, “Did he just say-”

“Yeah... Yeah baby boy he did.” Wade's jaw tensed before he finally brought his eyes down to Peter, “Let's get something to eat Pete. No need to let all this go to waste.”

The rest of the night went uneventfully. A blur of people came and spoke with Peter throughout the night, but never stayed long enough to be truly memorable. He was never without someone nearby him, whether it was Weasel or Nessa. Wade had been a constant at the beginning of the night but had disappeared after a while. He couldn't help but be curious what they were trying to shield him from, but he knew he could ask later. The night ended with a small show of fireworks before people began filing out. Nessa, Weasel and Peter stood on the outskirts, letting the majority of the crowd leave. Nessa was still nursing a glass of some bright pink liquid while Weasel was focused on watching the different people leaving, muttering small things under his breath.

When the crowds died down enough, Nessa put her free hand on Peter's back, “Let's head out. We have a train to catch.”

“What about Wade?”

Weasel snorted, “That sullen bastard will find us. Let's get out of here before I burst into flames.”

Peter shot him a curious look before looking at Nessa who only smirked. She set her glass down and leaned over, “Weasel isn't like most speakers from the Capitol. He was forced into it for community service to the President. You should ask him about it some time, it's a pretty funny story.”

“Is that why he's terrible at this?”

Nessa cackled behind her hand, “I think he's just terrible in general, but at least he isn't one of those speakers that's all about appearances.”

The carriage ride to the train was just as silent but less tense. Nessa was staring out the window, while Weasel passed out with his head bobbing to the side. Peter asked if they were going to wait for Wade, but Nessa shook her head. Arriving to the train, Nessa shook Weasel awake before he scurried off to the train. Peter walked out, looking around. Nessa follows after him, guiding him to his train car, “Don't worry about Wade, Peter. He's always late going back home.”

She offered him a smile, “I'm sure you're looking forward to it. It's been a while for all of us.” She gently patted his back before walking away, leaving Peter in front of his room. He stood there for a while, staring at the door as if he was trying to make everything different. The train lurched forward, causing Peter to stumble but he caught himself against the wall. He let out an annoyed puff of breath as he pushed off the wall and into his room. The soft rumble from the train moving filled the mostly still room. He pulled off his jacket, throwing it onto a nearby chair as he walked towards his bed.

Loosening his bowtie, he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling small in the room. He pulled the tie off his neck, letting it fall to the floor. He mumbled, “I did it Gwen... I won.”

~*~

Wade stalked towards his room, pulling off bloodied gloves and tossing them out a nearby window.

“There you are.” Nessa's voice echoed through the hallway as she stepped out with her arms crossed. Wade tilted his head back, looking at her through tired eyes and grunted.

“Where did you go off to?”

“Oh, nowhere. Just got wrapped up with talking to the elites.”

“Mm...” Nessa walked towards him until she stood in front of him, looking him in the eyes, “Next time you decide to go wandering off, let Peter know.”

Wade's eyebrows were drawn close, growing frustrated with her questions but that ebbed away into curiosity, “Why's that?”

“He was worried about you. I don't know what you've said to him but he's clinging onto you Wade. You can't just go off on your own. He's in a rough place right now.”

Wade fell quiet but nodded an acknowledgement. They stood together in the hallway for a moment before Wade pushes passed her, mumbling a brief, 'Night' before he walked off to his room. The moment his door shut, he let out a sigh as he looked up to the ceiling, “What the fuck am I suppose to do with this?”

[Kill him]

{Kill them}

He growls, shaking his head, “You fucking got your blood tonight. Leave it be.”

[We will always want more]

{We like the killings}

“Fucking leeches...” Wade grumbles to himself. He pulled off the bracelet, locking it into its charging station before walking into the bathroom. He avoids looking in the mirror but sets up a shower to be excruciatingly hot. He waits for the steam to billow out before stepping in. He lets out a hiss as he starts scrubbing furiously at his body.

[They deserved their death]

{They always do}

[Why are you so pathetic to not see this?]

{Do you think that you can save them}

[You're even more pathetic than we thought]

{They can't be saved}

[We demand blood and the Capitol gives it to us willingly]

{You cannot deny that you don't enjoy it}

[The thrill of the hunt as we slaughter them]

{They deserve it}

Wade slams his hand against the tiled wall, growling, “Shut up.”

[You really believe that these people can win?]

{Not with the way we kill}

[They will fail. All people do eventually]

{They'll give up but not before we slaughter all of them}

“I said shut up.” Wade clenched his jaw tight enough that he could hear the groan of his teeth. The heat from the shower was causing his body to ache but he couldn't find it in him to leave yet.

[You think you are helping but all you are doing is damning everyone around you]

{What do you think all of them will say when you tell them that you are the one slicing their throats?}

[Do you think they will accept your pleas?]

{Maybe then you'll finally be killed, just like you should have back in that arena.}

[I can see their faces now. I will enjoy cutting them down, just like you will]

With a harsh click, Wade turns the water off and steps out. He towels himself off harshly, pulling on the scars to cause himself even more pain. He barely registers putting on his clothes before collapsing into bed, hoping that the voices would be quiet enough to let him sleep.

~*~

Peter was terrified to step off the train. He stood in the archway, looking out to District 12's station as if he was stepping into the arena again. He still wasn't convinced on he was supposed to be celebrated when everything else had fallen apart around him. He did want to see May and Ben again, but how was he supposed to face Gwen's family and MJ? He shifted his weight as he edged closer to the door.

“Can't stay on this train forever Pete.” Wade's voice cut through his thoughts. He looked back to see Wade leaning against the same archway he had when they had started this whole mess.

A glare formed on his face as he snapped back, “I have no reason to go out there.”

Wade raised an eyebrow as he looked disinterested in him, “Oh? If that's the case, you would have already walked off.”

Peter took a step towards him, falling into anger, “Listen-”

“No you listen Pete.” Wade's voice was firm as he walked in front of him, “There are people out there that need to see you. The district needs someone to be proud of, give the people hope to keep going on. Fuck knows I didn't do that. You have a real chance to help them out. There are going to be unhappy people but they have that right. Just because you're scared to go and face them will only make things worse. So get your ass off this train.”

He was stunned, his mouth gaping as he tried to sputter out some semblance or words. Wade snorted at him, putting his hands on Peter's shoulders and shoved him off the train and onto the worn platform. Wade released one of his shoulders but led him through the station and towards a loud roar of noise.

“Wade..”

“Ah! I don't want to hear it. You'll thank me for this later, just pull it off like a band-aid Petey-pie.” Wade's gaze remained ahead. Peter let his eyes fall down to the dirt, shivering with the increasing rumble of voices as they came closer to the Square. It felt like a death sentence until they walked into the Square and the crowd grew louder with cheers before quietening. Wade led Peter up to the stage, squeezing his shoulder and offering him a wink and a smirk.

The mayor pulled Peter to the mic as they announced their new victor to the district. After a short speech, they stepped to the side and offered the mic to Peter. He looked wide-eyed between the mic and the mayor before shaking his head, stepping backwards. Giving Peter a strange look, they stepped forward, “Let the celebration begin!”

The crowd cheered before they all separated into different groups. Peter walked backwards until he collided into a seat next to Nessa, falling backwards with a grunt. Nessa offered him a smile, “Careful Peter. It's a little overwhelming but you might as well get something to eat. Don't go too far, Wade and I will take you home in a bit.”

He nodded absentmindedly, watching Nessa disappearing into the crowds but not having the nerve enough to follow. He sat in his seat for a while longer before letting out a breath, mentally pepping himself up. He walked into the crowd, dealing with people patting his back or offering brief congratulations. Peter would like to say that he offered a smile but he felt like it was more like a grimace. He managed to grab a plate, moving to the side to be out of the way.

“Peter.” A gruff voice pulled his attention from his plate to see George Stacy standing in front of him. Any appetite that Peter had quickly left him as he stared at the gruff appearance of Gwen's father. Helen Stacy was following after him, herding Gwen's brothers.

A lump formed in Peter's throat as he tried to clear his throat,”S-sir?”

“It would seem congratulations are in order.” His tone said the exact opposite of his words. Peter remained silent, knowing that whatever Gwen's family was going to tell him, he deserved.

“Need to work on your grip though.” George spoke, “Should be someone else standing here instead.”

“I-”

“If you're going to tell me sorry, I don't want to hear it. Your words won't bring her back to us.” He growled at Peter. A hiccup came from behind him, causing Peter's eyes to jump to Helen and Gwen's siblings. Each of them wearing a different expression of remorse and anger, tears forming in Helen's eyes.

“I'm sorry...” Peter mumbled, turning his gaze to the ground. He heard a scoff followed by silence. The plate in Peter's grip trembled, trying his best not to think of her. He dared a glance up to see MJ making a beeline to him. He stumbled back with wide eyes, “MJ?”

As she got closer, Peter could see the tear stains on her cheeks but she wore one of the fiercest glares that he had ever seen. He opened his mouth to say something, but a slap silenced him. His head jerked to the side, dropping his plate to the ground as he brought his hand up to his cheek. He stared off to the side, surprised by what just happened. He looked back to MJ, standing in front of him with an expression of fury and sorrow.

“MJ, I'm so sorry.” He could feel the tears starting to form as he moved to reach out to her. She pushed his hand away, pointing at him before turning around and storming off into the crowd. There were quiet murmurs from the people around him, yet Peter felt like all eyes were on him. He rubbed at his face, glancing around for an unoccupied alley where he could make a quick getaway. Spotting an opening, he sprinted away, leaving the crowds behind him. He runs further into the shacks that set up shop near the hob until he could see the fence ahead. He slowed his pace until he stopped in front of the thick wires. He fell to his knees, looking out to the forest and the hills that laid before him. He let a sorrowful sigh leave his body as he felt a few tears slide down his cheeks, “I don't want to cry anymore Gwen.”

Peter shoved his hands onto his thighs, pushing as hard as he could into them. His gaze fell from the trees to his right hand where it was touching his thigh but he didn't feel anything. He flexed his fingers but still felt nothing. He released one of his thighs, rubbing at his cheeks, “I'm sorry Gwen. I wish you were here instead of me.”

The breeze was the only answer that Peter got, so he continued, “You'd probably handle all this victor stuff better than me. How am I supposed to be a figurehead for these stupid games?”

“Well... I suppose that's one way of looking at this.”

Peter's back went rigid as he glanced behind him to see Nessa standing a few feet away. She had a brief expression of remorse before she let it slip away, “Come on Peter. It's time we get you home. I think you've had enough excitement today.”

He nodded, sliding up to his feet and joining her side. They walked in silence towards Victor's Row. The rusted iron fence felt more ominous than regal, but the rows of flowers was a nice touch. There were three houses near the end of the row that looked well maintained and had lights on.

“I am the house on the far right. If you ever need anything, feel free to come over. Wade is the opposite side, second to the back.”

Peter nodded. His eyes landed on the third house that was a couple houses down from Nessa. He took a step forward before pausing, glancing back to Nessa. She gave him a warm smile, shooing him. He gave her a hesitant smile before walking ahead.

The door was a rich chestnut that had a wreath of various herbs that screamed May. He held his hand out, unsure if he should knock or if he could just walk in. He let out a puff of breath and settled with knocking. He could hear two voices and the clattering of objects hitting each other.

“I've got it Ben, you rest and if I see you walking around trying to move things again. I will – Peter!” May looked at him with wide eyes.

“Hi Aunt May...” Peter looked at her sheepishly.

Surprisingly strong arms pulled Peter close as May clutched him close to her. Peter wrapped his arms around her, gripping into her blouse as he buried his head into her shoulder. He fought back against the tears that threatened to show up again, but he let his body tremble as Mary squeezed him. Another pair of hands gripped Peter's shoulders that he knew was Ben. He could hear May sniffling while they stood in the doorway. Ben pushed them into the foyer enough to close the door before wrapping both of them into a tight hug.

After a while, Ben stepped away and cleared his throat, “Welcome home Peter.”

He was resistant from leaving May's shoulder, but he did look over to Ben then to May, “What about the shop?”

“We still have it for now but I want to give it to someone else. I'm setting up one of the rooms here to handle my stock.” May wiped her eyes before waving her hand dismissively at Peter, “I don't want to talk about that. Let me see your shoulder Peter.”

He froze as he looked at her wide-eyed. Ben stepped forward “May, let the boy get relaxed.”

“Oh no. I saw how that looked and I don't trust any of those doctors to take care of it. What did they tell you?” May turned a fierce glare to Ben.

“Uh...” He looked down at his right hand, watching him flex his fingers but feeling nothing, “Nerve damage and they said that I probably won't gain any feeling in the majority of my hand.”

She clicked her tongue, grabbing his hand, “We'll see about that!”

“May really... It's fine.” Peter tried to pull his hand back, but she held firm.

She shot him a firm look, “It's not fine Peter.”

Peter sighed, “May, they took me to doctors in 3. I'm pretty sure if they couldn't get this fixed then it won't change. I'm okay with this May. Isn't it a tradition for the victors to come home with some kind of scar?”

May went to say something but sighed, “I don't like it, but it is your choice. I'm so happy you're home Peter.”

A half smile was her response. He glanced over to Ben who gave him a nod and a smile. He was happy to be home as well but it felt hollow in some way.

~*~

Not having to struggle for anything anymore was an odd feeling. It left Peter with a lot more free time than he was used to. He didn't have to work on odds and ends in order to sell them at the Hob nor take out tesseraes to feed everyone. He tried to throw himself into his tinkering but every time he tried to start something, he could hear the cannons. His fingers would twitch with the phantom pain of numb fingers and searing metal. He could still hear the cries of shock to the point that he had to push away his projects. May found herself busy moving all her plants to her new greenhouse and storage room. She was able to grab what items she wanted to keep from the shop and they found their way in the new home. It felt less sterile and more homey whenever Peter would see a new knickknack filling an empty space. Ben had a hard time filling his time at first, but after a few months, he found his own stride. He took to the Hob with new vigor but instead of trying to make ends meet, he helped those he could. He still had his bad days where his lungs refused to let him leave the house, but there was a renewed energy that Peter hadn't seen in Ben. He found relief in knowing that May and Ben had found new strength in their new stations. Peter tried to focus on that and most days it worked. Yet even their optimism couldn't keep the nightmares that plagued Peter from appearing every night.

Peter grew smart after the first few times that he woke to seeing May brushing his hair and trying to comfort him. He found a broken holoscreen and was able to fix it up. At night, he would play different programs from the Capitol as white noise. If he did wake up with a shout, it was covered by the noise that filled his room. He had tried to stay awake, but that had only been followed by him passing out in the front hallway.

One cloudy morning, May had pushed Peter out of the house, telling him that fresh air would do him wonders. He bundled up in a hoodie that was too big for him, leaving Victor's Row and wandered through the district. There were very few people out on a day that threatened rain which was relieving. There had been a small amount of the population that still ogled him whenever he was around. He offered a nod of acknowledgement whenever he made eye contact with someone.

Peter kept to the outskirts of the Seam not sure where he stood with MJ and he really didn't want to get slapped again. He wasn't sure where they were when it came to the friendship they had before the games. Instead of dealing with the situation, he avoided it. He walked the boundary of the fence, glancing out to the forest outside. He paused, leaning against the wood pillars, staring out to the unfenced world. He pushed his head against the pillar, letting his eyes unfocus on what was in front of him. The familiar hum of electricity was absent from the fence.

Feeling a little bold, he reached out to touch the wires. He half expected a shock and yet he felt nothing but the chilled metal. He stared at the fence for a moment before moving between the gapes. Peter looked back at the fence and then to the forest ahead of him. A small sense of dread tickled his mind that told him to go back, but he ignored it in favor of jogging into the darkened woods.

There was a small amount of silence that was only broken by the calls of birds and his feet against the thick forest floor. Peter tilted his head upwards to look at the light breaking through the leaves of the trees. The soft platting of raindrops hitting leaves joined the chorus as he enjoyed the forest. He let a small smile formed on his face as he felt himself relax. He took a deep breath in, filling his nose with the scent of wet earth, decaying leaves and bark.

After wandering for a while, the rain grew heavier as it broke through the canopy. Peter took to staying near the trunks of the trees to avoid getting too wet, but it was becoming unavoidable. In the distance, Peter could hear a voice. He felt tense, remembering what he was told about being found outside of the fence. The Peacekeepers would think that he was trying to run. It wouldn't matter that he was a victor, they would take him to the Capitol and he'd have his tongue cut out. He'd be forced into hard labor and he didn't want to think about what would happen to May and Ben. He swallowed to rid himself of the lump that was forming with no avail. He glanced behind him, wondering if he would be able to get back inside the fence before anyone noticed. He found himself with the problem of not remembering his path back.

“You're a fucking idiot Peter.” He mumbled to himself as he ran his fingers through his damp hair. He glanced back to the direction that he was hearing the voice. He could walk towards the voice and pay the lost card. It might work or it could go horribly wrong. He weighed his options before groaning and walked towards the voice.

As he drew closer, he could hear the voice with more clarity. He almost laughed out of relief when he recognized the voice. It was Wade and that did raise a question of what he was doing out in the woods. Thanks to his self isolation, Peter hadn't seen either Nessa or Wade. He did hear Nessa's voice more often than Wade when either of them came to check on May, Ben or himself. He didn't have the courage to talk to either of them, but they seemed okay with not pushing. Peter drew his hands into the oversized sleeves as he noticed a clearing ahead. Stepping carefully, he pushed against a tree to see Wade sitting near the edge in front of a small shrine.

“I don't know what I'm doing anymore mom. I wish you were still around. Nessa has been getting on my case about Pete and I just can't figure out how to get through to him.” Wade let out a forced chuckle, “I know I'm one to talk when I can't even come to terms with what happened in my own games. Al has been getting on my case about that. She gets some kind of sick pleasure out of seeing me fuck up.”

Peter steps forward, but stumbles and lands on the wet grass with a soft 'oof'. He pushes himself up, grimacing at his now wet hoodie and the various leaves and dirt now sticking to him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Wade's voice booms through the trees. Peter jerks his attention up, seeing Wade tower over him. He crawls backwards until his back hits a trunk. He looks up at Wade with wide eyes as he stammers to say something. He braces against the trunk, digging his palms into the rough bark as he stands up. Wade stalks towards him and a switch flips in Peter's brain, causing him to bolt away into the forest.

~*~

[Look at the little rabbit run]

{Do you think he will trip and break his neck?}

Wade growls, shaking his head as he watches Peter disappear. He stands in the clearing, huffing out his frustration and embarrassment as the reality settles in. His eyes glance back to the small shrine as he lets out a groan, “Fuck.”

[Your wonderful personality has scared the little rabbit off]

{Could be worse, he could have seen our ugly face}

[Do you think that'll make him run faster?]

{Ooooh, let's go see!}

His gaze snaps back in the direction that Peter had run off, “Fuck!” He slaps his hands against his head, pulling at what little hair he had. He couldn't leave Peter alone in the woods, especially if he just ran off in some unknown direction.

{Aaaaw, why not? Let the animals eat!}

[But what if we could be the animal to kill?]

He forcibly shook his head, doing his best to silence the voice before shouting out, “Peter!” He let his feet follow after Peter, careful to watch for roots and other debris that would make things more difficult. He watched for any clear tracks as mud showed clearly on the floor. Wade took brief breaks, trying to hear for anything and watch his breathing.

Wade lost track of time as he ran through a small stream, pausing to cup his hands around his mouth, “Peter! Where did you go?”

Silence was his only response as he snarled at himself. He started up a slower pace, moving as quietly as he could with the debris cluttering the forest floor. Wade paused, bracing himself against a tree. He winced as the bark dug into his palms, but when he heard heavy breathing coming from ahead; the bark became the least important thing. His head snapped towards the sound as he raced towards it.

Curled up between some roots was a panting Peter, clutching his shoulders. Wade let out a sigh of relief as he rubbed a dirty hand against his forehead, smearing dirt across it. Peter's attention snapped onto Wade and he looked ready to bolt. Wade held out his hand, “Easy baby boy. Don't go racing off.”

Peter glanced around them, sitting tense before letting out a sigh. He slumped back into the tree. Wade slowly moved around the roots, kneeling down, “You scared the shit out of me, Pete.”

“How do you think I feel?” Peter snapped, “I hear a voice in the woods and thought it was a patrolling Peacekeeper!”

Wade blinked, looking at him strangely, “Ah... uh. Okay that's fair. I'm sorry, alright?”

“You're still shit at apologies.” Peter mumbled, pulling his knees close to his chest.

A smirk grew on Wade's face, “You're the only one who seems to pull them out of me, so take that as you will. You gonna go runnin' off on me again?”

“You going to shout at me again?” Peter gave Wade a stink eye.

“Alright, that's fair too. I won't... Just... Why the hell are you out here in the woods baby boy? You decide to finally join the waking world?” Wade pushes off his knees, rubbing his hands against his pants.

“May kicked me out. She told me that I needed some fresh air.”

“Hell of a woman.” Wade chuckled, holding out his hand, “Come on, let's head back to a closer part. Don't want to get caught out here at night, that's when they turn on the fence.”

“Why is it off?” Peter grabbed Wade's hand, pulling himself up, “I thought the fences were supposed to always be on.”

“Oh they are, but the peacekeepers here don't care too much.” Wade shoved his hands into his pants, shrugging his shoulders, “They're just as poor as the rest of us, equally as forgotten. I've come to the consensus that they send peacekeepers who are being problems in other districts here. It seems to break them pretty easily.”

Wade nodded his head back in a direction, walking ahead but knowing that Peter was trailing close behind. He decided to fill the quiet, “You come to District 12 to be forgotten. That's what it feels like anyway.”

“That's stupid.”

“Oh? Tell me Pete, where exactly are you from?”

Peter was silent for a while. Wade almost thought that he wasn't going to get an answer before Peter finally spoke, “What gave it away?”

“Oh, a lot. I'm sure you told Nessa during the games. If you told me, I forgot. That tends to happen to me often.”

“3.”

“That makes sense. You're brainy enough to come from there. Shame that you can't do much here.”

“I can do plenty here.”

“Baby boy. You may be some kind of genius but you can't take two broken things and make it work.”

“What were you doing out here?”

The abrupt change of topic caused Wade to stop. He felt Peter walk into his back before stumbling back. He glanced over his shoulder to look at him.

[Tell him the truth]

{Tell him that you came out here to ask your dead mom for forgiveness}

[Tell him how much of a Capitol lap dog you actually are]

{Tell him how much you enjoy the blood}

He tensed his jaw before letting out a sigh, “Seeing my mom.” A soft 'oh' was his only response before they fell into silence. Wade picked up the pace, making it closer to the clearing that he knew like the back of his hand.

{What you think is your hand}

He took a hard turn, walking away from the clearing and towards the fence. There was an uncomfortable tension that was settling between them as the rain was settling into a drizzle. The squishing of shoes against mud and leaves filled the air. Wade wasn't sure if he would go back to his mom's grave. Being interrupted made the whole thing feel strange, but he wasn't going to go back to deal with Al. She had been in a mood about something that he hadn't paid attention to, but how could he honestly keep it straight with her? She always went on about something.

“I never said thank you.”

Peter's voice broke the silence, causing Wade to stop and turn to him, “Huh?”

“Thank you for helping me deal with... well, everything. I know the rumors about you said that you didn't care, but you do. So thanks.” Peter was rubbing at his arm and Wade couldn't comprehend what was being said to him.

[Did the little rabbit just thank you?]

The voices seemed to be just as dumbfounded as he was. He looked at Peter as if he had grown a second head before shaking his head, looking away, “Uh.. sure.”

Wade turned his back to Peter, sparing a brief moment to carry on his confused expression. He shook his head again and started walking again. As they broke through the treeline, Wade stepped to the side, “Well, there's home.”

Peter stepped forward, but Wade didn't wait as he turned and walked off towards some overgrown hills. He moved a little slower due to the weather and the mud, but eventually he got to a hill that was overlooked a portion of 12 and he let himself fall onto a log. He let out a sigh as he ran his hands over his face, pulling at the scars on his chin.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” Peter's voice was soft, but it was still enough to cause Wade to lurch forward.

“Fuck!” Wade looked over at him, while Peter fiddled with his hoodie and looked ready to run at any moment. Wade let a choked laugh out, “I'm gonna get you a bell baby boy. You got to stop sneakin' up on me.”

“Sorry. Uh, for interrupting earlier and just now.”

Wade waved a hand, “Have a seat Pete.” The wood creaked as Peter joined him, giving him enough space as to not encroach on his personal bubble. They sat in silence, watching the drizzle fade most details in the distance. Wade gathered some of the moisture to clean off his forehead and his hands, drying them off on his damp jeans. He leaned forward on his legs, letting out a barely audible sigh.

“Why haven't you said sorry?”

He groaned, turning his head to look at Peter, “About what?”

“About Gwen.” Peter refused to return Wade's gaze, keeping his attention on the district below.

[Tell him that you were expecting them both to die]

{Go ahead. Tell him that you thought he was going to throw himself at another tribute to die}

“You don't want to hear that.” Wade scoffed, “You don't want to be told sorry about Gwen's death. You want to keep feeling bad about it. You want to feel bad about surviving when she didn't make it because you think everyone wants you to feel that way.”

Peter's eyes snap onto his and there was a level of indignation that caused Wade to smirk, “Oh did I hit it on the nail? Baby boy, you want to feel guilty about living and if you keep dwelling on her. I can guarantee you'll never be okay.”

“Sounds like you're speaking from experience.” Peter tried to scoff it off, but he leaned closer to his legs, pulling his eyes away from Wade. But not before he noticed the sorrow that still sat there.

“I do.” Wade found himself admitting. He looked back to the district, “I lived through Hell during my games, then I came back and had to help other scared kids try and survive theirs. I watched a little girl die in front of me and I never found out her name.” He drew his hands into his hair at finally admitting one of his haunting thoughts.

“Her name was Ellie.” Peter's hand gently gripped Wade's arm. Wade couldn't stop the laugh that came out. He almost wished he didn't know but something within him said otherwise. He kept his hands on his head, but glanced over to see Peter looking at him. He stared at him for a while before letting his hands fall from his head, letting one land on top of Peter's. He looked down into Peter's eyes, watching the warm smile grow on his face. Wade found himself returning it, squeezing his hand as a warm feeling grew in his stomach.

~*~

Whatever wall had been built around Wade had grown some holes for Peter, leaving a strange form of companionship. Peter found himself staying less and less within his room and exploring the district. On the rare occasion, Peter joined Wade at his house. Wade's house was similar to Peter's but still had strong elements that made it Wade's. There were very few bright colors having been traded out for dark grays and reds. It was startling to see the red on so many walls but it fit Wade. There were few homey touches but Peter guessed that many of them were taken down after Wade's mother's passing.

Peter stood outside Wade's door, knocking on it before pushing open the door slowly, “Wade?”

There was no answer at first, so Peter stepped inside, closing the door. He stood in the foyer, wiping off his shoes before calling out again, “Wade? Are you still sleeping?”

Still no response, until a scuffling comes from the kitchen, “Peter, is that you?”

A smile forms as he walks ahead into the kitchen to see Al shuffling around the kitchen, “Good morning Al. Is Wade here?”

“No, that idiot got called to the Capitol for something or other. He probably said something before he raced off like death was nippin' at his heels from the way he was running.”

“Oh.” Peter sat on one of the stools, deflating, “I can leave if you wanted the house to yourself.”

“You're already here and unlike that idiot, I enjoy talking to you.” Al used the kitchen island as her guiding rail, feeling around for something.

Peter watched her, “Can I help you with something, Al?”

“I was just trying to figure out what I wanted to make for breakfast. I was thinking about cooking something, but until you got it that seemed rather silly. - What are you feeling, boy?”

“Well, let's see what you have.” Peter hopped off his stool and walked over to the fridge. He looked inside, pulling out a few items out, “How about some scrambled eggs with veggies?”

“Sounds heavenly.” Al moved to take up one of the stools, leaning against the countertop, “Did you and Wade have something planned today?”

“Oh no, nothing planned. I just didn't really want to stay in.”

“May's been sayin' that you have been getting out and about more often. There's no good in keeping yourself all cooped up.”

“I guess.” Peter shrugs, cracking eggs into a pan before turning towards the counter, chopping up tomatoes, broccoli, onions and spinach. He slid it into the pan, throwing some salt and pepper in. He turned around and started up the stove, putting the pan there. The eggs crackled as he stirred the eggs around. He kept silent, watching the food carefully. He pushed the eggs around, “Would you want some toast Al?”

“Just throw it in the pan when you're done with the eggs.”

Peter hummed, watching the consistency of the eggs. Once they were cooked, he pulled down two plates, piling eggs on both. He buttered two slices of bread and placed them in the pan back on the stove. He watched until they were toasted, then he placed one on each plate. He placed one in front of Al and joined her in the stool next to her.

“Thank you Peter.”

“Well I was already interrupting your breakfast to begin with, so it's the least I could do.” He tore off a piece of his bread to scoop up his eggs. They ate in a comfortable silence. Al got up, taking both her plate and Peter's and put them into the sink.

“I can-”

“Don't you dare. You already did enough with the food. You go and make yourself at home. I'm sure Wade will be back at some point.” Al waved him off. Peter waited a moment, glancing back to the hallway before looking back to Al. He let out a brief sigh before walking off to the living room. He spent the day talking with Al until the sun began to set and she shooed him away to go back home. For the next few days, Peter stopped by Wade's house and was told that he still wasn't home. On the third day, Al told Peter that she would let Wade know that he stopped by. It was a little disheartening when he didn't appear. Peter decided not to focus on where he might be and turned to helping around the house. He helped May with her herbal room, taking clippings and handing her what materials she needed to make her different salves. It gave him a small sense of normality to settle back in as he made idle chatter.

It was a few days later when a knock echoed through the house. Peter held his hand out, gripping a stem of rosemary. May glanced up from her mortar, “Could you get that dear?I need to keep a close eye on this paste.”

Peter set the herb done, walking out of the room. He answered the door, holding it open marginally.

“Hear that you were lookin' for me Petey-pie.” Wade looked down at him. There were dark circles under his eyes, but he still wore a smile.

“Wade! Where in the hell have you been?” Peter opened the door fully, “Get in here, you look awful.”

Wade chuckled, stepping through, “Yeah I suppose I am.”

“Peter who is it?” May's voice called out.

“It's Wade.”

“Oh good! You tell him that he's staying for dinner and I will not hear a word against it.” May's voice was firm but in a mothering way.

Peter covered his mouth to stifle his laughter, shrugging at Wade. Wade only chuckled at him, “I would never turn down your delicious meals May!”

“I'm sure she'd love to see you. She's in her herbal room.”

Wade's smile faltered for a moment as he glanced towards the room. He shook his head, “Ah... I was actually just coming over to let you know I was back in town. I haven't gotten back to check on Al yet. I'll be back for dinner though.” He put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing before leaving as abruptly as he came in. Peter was left standing there a little dazed.

“Aww... Did Wade leave already? I was hoping to actually say hello.” May was wiping off her hands into her apron.

Peter glanced back at her, “He said he'd be back for dinner. I don't think he'd lie about that.”

“Mmm good. Let's go take a look at what we have for dinner, hm?” May smiled at him. Peter nodded, following after her. May hummed as she pulled out a variety of ingredients, setting them out on the countertop, “How do you feel about chicken with rice?”

“That sounds good May, but do we have enough for all of us?”

“Oh we have plenty. Go fetch me some rosemary, thyme and sage.” Peter nodded, walking off to the herbal room, picking off a few stems. As he walked back into the kitchen, placing the herbs next to May as she dressed the chicken in some broth, “It's good that you are making friends with Wade, Peter.”

Taken a little by surprise, he shrugs, “He's not completely terrible.”

May clicked her tongue, “That boy has been through a lot.”

“Yeah...” Peter glances back to the front door, “He tries to scare people off. I don't think he realized what would happen when he did that.”

“Well it's a good thing that you managed not to get scared off.” May hummed. Helping May with dinner was a quieter affair than helping her with her herbs. As the sun was starting to get low in the sky, Ben came home. When May mentioned that Wade would be joining them, he got a little huffy. He left the kitchen, mumbling about something that Peter couldn't clear make out.

Soon after, the house was being filled with the rich smells of cooked chicken and seasoned rice. May shooed Peter out of the kitchen to set the table. He laid down the last napkin when there was another knock. Peter opened his mouth to shout that he was going to get it, but Ben replied sooner. Peter poked his head out of the dining room to see Ben looking up at Wade who looked rather sheepish.

“Evening sir.”

“Hmph. Seems you get your chance at being invited into this house.”

“I uh... guess so?”

“Benjamin!” May shouted from the kitchen, “I haven't heard the door closed yet. I hope you're not giving Wade a hard time!”

Peter looks back to May in the kitchen. She gives Peter a smile. Wiping her hands off in a rag, she stepped out of the kitchen and walked past Peter. She gave him a wink as she walked into the hallway, “Wade Wilson. It has been a while since I have seen you.”

Peter walks after her, noticing how tense Wade was. He was looking at May as if she would attack him at any moment. May pushed Ben out of the way, “Come on in Wade. Dinner is almost ready. Peter has been telling me that you were away at the Capitol. How is Al doing?”

Ben grunted but closed the door after Wade was pulled in. Wade shot Peter a worried look but Peter just gave him a smile. Still tense, he stumbled at trying to find his words before letting out a sigh, “Al's fine. I... I was in the Capitol on some business.”

“Oh? It must have been important to take you away for so long.”

“Not really. Just pressing enough that I couldn't put it off.”

“Well, I'm sure you'd rather be at home with Al anyways. I saw her a couple of days ago in the Hob. It always surprises me how easily she can get around.” May laughed. She looped her arm into Wade's as she led him into the dining room.

Peter followed after them, stopping outside the dining room. He glanced into the kitchen, deciding to give them a moment. He walked into the kitchen to check how everything was cooking. He checked on the rice before scooping it into a serving bowl. He added the green beans into another bowl before he checked on how the chicken was cooking. He debated for a second if he should take it out or leave that to May.

While he was debating himself, May snuck up behind him, “Oh Peter, thank you. I was going to make Ben do this since he seems to be in the mood.”

He looked back, “Oh it's fine. It looked like you wanted to have a moment with Wade. Just thought I'd help.”

“You go see to our guest. This chicken is almost done. Take the rice and beans with you please.”

“Yes May.”

Carefully balancing the two bowls, Peter walked into the dining room to see Wade leaning against the window, staring off into the distance. He watched Wade for a moment, feeling a warm pit grow within him. Wade seemed to realize he was being watched, so he tilted his head back. He offered Peter one of his rare genuine smiles before pushing away from the window and walked towards him, “Let me help you with one of those.”

Peter let one of the bowls go as he watched him place it on the table. He stayed where he was, trying to catalogue what he was feeling. Instead of allowing himself to realize what it was, he shook his head and put the other bowl on the table, “I think May was saying the chicken would be done in just a minute.”

Wade hummed. The smile that was on his face slid away as he glanced back out the window. He looked back to Peter, “So Pete, what have I missed while I was out?”

~*~

Wade wasn't a regular when it came to going over to Peter's house and it wasn't from a lack of trying. He adored May and found himself helping her out whenever she asked specifically for him, but he just didn't feel comfortable there. It felt wrong to be there when he was such a mess. Peter didn't seem to mind but it nagged at Wade. When he wasn't being called to the Capitol, it surprised Wade how much time he spent with Peter. He wasn't staying in the house and tormenting Al, though they still shared plenty of jabs at each other.

And for the first time in years, Wade could comfortably say that he remembered what was going on around him. He found that he wasn't missing time anymore. It felt strange to be so cognizant of what was going on around him.

[So the insanity psychopath has some brief moments of sanity, whoopie doo]

{It'll all come crashing down sooner or later}

[Oh we'll see to that.]

He waved at the air, trying to shoo away his own thoughts. He was meeting Peter at their spot that overlooked the district. He was running late after making sure that Al wasn't going to burn down the house when she tried to make something to eat. Wade had his hands comfortably hooked into his front pockets as he walked toward the weakness in the fence. Slipping through with surprising ease considering his bulk, he listened to the muted thumps of his boots against dry earth. He moved at a quicker pace as he made his way up a few hills. In the distance he could see Peter sitting on the log, looking at something nearby. When he got closer, Wade spoke, “Found something there Pete?”

Peter didn't jump, something that Wade was proud of. It was nice to see him come out of his shell. When Peter looked at him, he smiled and laughed, “Just watching some spiders.”

Wade tried to control the way his heart clenched whenever Peter smiled so openly to him. His hand instinctively clenched as he threw a smile back at him, “Are you into bugs now baby boy?”

“They're arachnids Wade.” Peter rolled his eyes but that didn't stop the laugh. Wade walked over and sat down next to him, perhaps a little closer than normal but Peter didn't say anything. He didn't reply to Peter's correction and just shrugged. Peter rolled his eyes, nudging him with his shoulder, “You are late, get lost again?”

Wade gasped, putting his hand over his heart as he looked offended to Peter, “How dare you sir! I will have you know that I was helping a whole bunch of kids read their alphabet correctly.”

“That is the biggest lie I have ever heard, want to try again?” Peter tried to smother a smile as he stared at Wade.

Wade scoffed, “I'll have you know that I am an upstanding citizen of Panem and will not let your hurtful words sully my respectful name.”

They sat in silence while they stared at each other before Peter's forced frown broke and he fell into a fit of giggles. Wade followed, a wide smile on his face, “Nah, I was helping Al out. I keep expecting her to burn down my house.”

“You should be nicer to her.” Peter scolded Wade.

“Eh, she'd probably be concerned if I did that. Plus, you didn't see how she treated me this morning. You think she's some sweet old blind lady, but I will tell you, she knows where to hit for the most pain.”

“Uh-huh and what did you do to her?”

“Nothing! I was getting a drink this morning and BAM! Out of nowhere she smacks me upside my head. She's only nice to you and May. She's a hazard to this world.”

“Did you drink from her favorite mug?”

“Look! She's blind. She doesn't know the difference.”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head as he looked out onto the district. They fell quiet. Wade enjoyed these moments the most. He didn't need to put up an air like he did in the Capitol. The voices were quieter when Peter was around. Not silent, but not screaming in his head that he could hear them clearly. He let out a sigh as he leaned back, propping his hands against the log. He winced when the bark dug a little too close to a sore scar, but he kept himself propped anyway. They could hear the muffled sounds of the district but it was covered by the calls of birds and the gentle breeze blowing by. There was a chill in the air that gave a reminder that Fall would be giving into Winter soon. Wade knew that the games' were going to be coming sooner with each passing season. He worried about how Peter would react when they had to train the tributes. He wanted to warn him, but he couldn't find it in him to ruin the moment.

“Hey Wade.” After a while Peter broke the silence, leaning against his thighs as he tilted his head to look over to him.

“Mm?” Wade was staring into the sky, watching the clouds slowly drift by, taking in the warmth of the sun.

“I was just wondering... but why is it you go back to the Capitol so often? I don't see Nessa doing it much.”

“Oh uh..” Wade's attention snapped onto Peter, “When a Victor goes around on their tours, sometimes they are so popular that they get called back to the Capitol to make boring promos and interviews for all the districts to see. Don't ask me why I'm so popular, it's probably my winning personality.”

Peter scoffed, “Oh yeah, that's the reason.”

“So, the Capitol and President Moron like to spring last minute shit on me. Then I'm gone for several days, but that's what I get for being so beautiful.” There was an edge to his voice even though he tried to loosen it for the joke.

“When will I be going on this tour?”

“Surprised you haven't already. Probably waiting for Winter since it tends to have the lowest morale.” It was Wade's turn to scoff.

Peter fell quiet before he bolted up, “Shit!”

“Baby boy!” Wade gasped as he looked at him.

“I forgot I was supposed to help Ben tonight! I got to go Wade.”

“Wha? But I only just got here!” Wade called out as Peter raced passed him.

“Maybe next time don't be late!” Peter shouted back to him, offering a brief wave before he disappeared behind the rolling hills. Wade sighed before chuckling at how forgetful Peter could be. He sat there for a while longer, watching the sky start to change colors. The chill grew until Wade couldn't stand it anymore. He made a silent trek back home, casting the world in an orange-red light.

As he slipped through the wires, a throat cleared. Wade tensed, ready for a fight when Nessa's voice called out, “There you are. Been slipping out of the district much?”

Wade let out a relieved sigh, his body slowly relaxing, “Hey Nessa. You should know better than to creep in dark places.”

Nessa let out a single laugh as she stepped out of the shadows and towards him, “Walk me home Wade.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes but walked ahead to Victor's Row. At first their walk was filled with silence, but Nessa seemed to have a plan. She quickened her pace to walk by Wade's side, doing her best to match his long strides, “I've noticed that you and Peter have been getting pretty close.”

Wade grunted, but gave no further response. That didn't slow Nessa down as she pushed on, “I'm happy for both of you.”

He stopped outside the gate, looking at her oddly, “What?”

Nessa smiled, walking ahead of him before turning back to look at him, “I'm happy for both of you. I was worried about both of you. I was terrified about you and I saw Peter going down that same path. It seems that you needed to help each other out of it.”

She let out a slight laugh, “Won't lie, it was a kick to my ego that I couldn't help either of you. I'm glad he was able to come back with you. I think you've still been in that arena for all these years Wade. It's nice to actually have you around now.”

“Nessa...”

She waved her hand, “It's fine. I understand. Sometimes we can't help everyone even if we try. You two have such hard heads, I'm amazed that you both managed to out-stubborn each other. I can finally say this.”

Nessa walked up to him, putting her hands on his shoulders and giving him a smile, “Welcome home Wade.”

~*~

As if it was predicted, as the first layers of snow dusted District 12, Peter was summoned for a tour. He couldn't help but find it odd that it was happening so late, but he knew he had no say. He was grateful that they had given him so many months to heal, but he doubted that they did that out of the kindness of their hearts. Death had swept into the house one morning before the sun had even risen, bundling Peter up in layers. He had questioned the level of fashion but Death merely clicked their tongue and asked, “Why would I care about fashion? I make statements for the districts to see, not ideal fancies for the Capitol idiots.”

Peter had kept his mouth shut as he let Death pack up his bag before ushering him out. He managed a brief goodbye to May and Ben as he left. Victor's Row was silent as he followed Death out and into the town. The district looked like a ghost town when no one was moving through, some people still waking up to start their days. They moved to the train station and Peter let out an audible sigh of relief when he noticed Weasel and Wade standing outside bickering. It was hard to even see Weasel as he was buried beneath a large hat and several wraps of scarves, each one looking rattier than the last. He looked overdressed compared to Wade who wore a slick black coat that looked thinner than an ordinary winter jacket should. Black gloves, hat and red scarf tied in the rest of the outfit.

“Why am I freezing in this fucking wasteland?”

“You're the fucking speaker for this place Weasel. So you kinda have to be here for Peter's tour.”

“I get that numbnuts, I'm talking about out here in this knee deep snow that apparently no one can shovel off the platform.”

“Because Death said to wait and unless you want to piss them off, go right ahead into that train.”

“Maybe I will!”

“You keep chewin' off my ear but I don't see those little legs movin'.”

“You are both children.” Death let out a sigh, shaking their head. Both of their attentions snapped onto Death and then to Peter.

“Finally.” Weasel huffed out. He scurried inside the train, leaving Wade standing by himself. Any agitation that had been on Wade's face melted away with a small smile when he locked eyes with Peter. A flutter grew in Peter's stomach as he returned the smile.

“Heya Pete, you sure know how to keep us waiting.”

Death brushed by Wade and he tilted his head towards them when Death paused to whisper something to Wade. A moment later they were gone, disappearing into the train cars. Peter walked up to Wade, “I didn't realize I was the last one.”

“Nah, you're good.”

“So... why were you both standing out here in the cold?”

“Ha! You heard that. I like takin' the piss outta Weasel when I can.” Wade laughed as they walked into the train. Entering the car, Wade leans over in a faux whisper, “Don't tell Weas that Nessa was here the whole time.”

“I heard that you sadistic son of a bitch!” Weasel was still bundled up, only his face poking through his scarves. He was bundled up into a nest of blankets.

“It wasn't that cold you big baby. Did the Capitol keep all the snow away from your wittle feets?” Wade mocked him as he stepped away from Peter to go and poke at the partially buried Weasel. Peter stood there a little awkwardly, glancing over to Nessa when she joined everyone.

“Alright you two, this is going to be a long few weeks if I have to listen to your non stop bickering.” Nessa groaned, elbowing Wade's back as she pushed passed him, “Good morning Peter, excited?”

“I don't even know what to expect.” He shrugged, letting out a small nervous laugh.

“You'll do fine. We'll be going to all the district for them to see you and you'll give a small speech that I sure hope Weasel wrote.”

“I wrote it you damn harpy!” Weasel slapped Wade's hand away.

“This is just a morale boost for the districts. Winter is hard for a lot of them and the Capitol uses us Victors as distractions.”

“Why didn't I do this sooner?” Peter glanced over to Wade and Weasel as they kept up their game of poking. The train groaned as it started up, moving forward at a slower pace.

“I think they pushed tours sooner after the victor's won their games, when they first started. But they found out that no one enjoys seeing victors still wounded and it gives families time to mourn.” Nessa put a hand on Peter's shoulder. He wasn't sure if it was her words or her gesture that made him wince but he just nodded.

He stayed silent for a little bit, listening to the growing rumbling of the train before he looked up at Nessa, “So what do I have to say?”

“Oh some bullshit about the Capitol or the games being the greatest fucking thing since sliced bread.” Wade flopped next to Weasel's nest, gaining a noise of agitation from the speaker. Nessa sent an annoyed glance to Wade before looking back at Peter.

“We'll be making stops at each of the districts, the last one being 12 since that'll be home. You won't have to make any speeches there since that's why we celebrated.” She must have noticed the tension that grew in Peter's shoulder, “We won't be stopping in the Capitol either since you had a large celebration there. They'll be watching you though, gauging how well the districts like you to decide if they pull you in for promos.”

He numbly nodded and Nessa gave his shoulder a squeeze, “Why don't you go ahead to your room and get some sleep. We'll be in 11 by this afternoon.”

He nodded again, walking away to his room. The moment the door closed behind him he let out a heavy sigh, rubbing at his face. He didn't bother to look around, letting himself fall into his bed. As he nestled his head into his pillow, he wished for a great many things. He wished Gwen was still there. He wished his parents were still alive. He wished that he didn't have to give speeches to the districts but more than anything, he wished that there were no games. Peter rolled onto his back and stared at the dark wood roof, thinking about if there was truly a resistance that was trying to fight against the games. He thought back to the strange conversation that he caught Wade in before the games. He buried his face into the crook of his arm as he let out a sigh, “I should get some sleep...” He mumbled to himself until his mind drifted away.

When they had gotten to District 11, a few individuals were waiting for them. A couple of peacekeepers, the mayor and a dark skinned woman with vitiligo splashed along her face and hands. She had a grin on her face that could rival a mad scientist when Wade stepped out, “There's the idiot!”

“Domino!” Wade let out a laugh as he walked up to her, pulling her into a hug. Peter looked away, trying not to think about the jealous sinking feeling in his stomach.

“There's the beautiful one, hey Nessa.” Peter dared a glance back to see Domino giving Nessa a flirty wink before they hugged.

“Get a room.” Wade huffed.

“Maybe later.” Domino had a glint in her eye before she glanced over to Peter, “And there's the star of the hour.”

Peter straightened up, holding his hand out. Domino looked down at his hand, grin still on his face, “Formal, I can deal with that.” She gripped his hand, giving it a firm shake, “Peter, right?”

He nodded, “Nice to meet you.”

“He's so cute. Wade, stay away from him, you'll taint him.” Domino had looped Peter into her arms, pulling him away from Wade and Nessa. Wade gasped, propping his hand against his chest, looking over to Nessa as if she would help him.

She just gave Wade a knowing smirk, “Come on Domino, why don't you show us around?”

The trek around District 11 felt almost homey. It was rundown in a similar fashion as 12 but most of the buildings were attached to wide fields of tilled dirt. Snow was covering everything but there were still stray stalks of corn and wheat that had snapped from the weight of frost and snow.

There were very few trees and they laid mostly around the fields. Domino talked Peter's ear off about how they helped prevent the health soil from eroding away so they could keep farming without too much worry of loss. She brought them to the city hall and left without a trace. The mayor took over, letting them know that there was going to be a small banquet after Peter's speech.

When it came time, the sun was hanging low on the horizon. Weasel shoved notecards into Peter's hand, muttering about Capitol swill. He was pushed onto the stage after a brief glance at the cards. The ocean of people standing outside in the cold filled Peter's stomach with a wave of guilt. He stumbled as he glanced at the cards, reading what they said. Weasel was nice enough to keep it short and by the time he looked up, there was a dull applause before the mayor took over, welcoming everyone to eat. The crowd dissipated as Peter let out a sigh of relief. Wade walked up behind him, slapping him on the shoulder, “Did good Petey.”

“I don't even remember what I said.” Peter stared down at the cards.

“That's not what matters. For some of these folks, they are getting closure for their losses, while others are getting madder.”

Peter looked up to Wade who had his attention out to the crowd, “But didn't you say-”

“Oh I say a lot.” Wade looks down at him, giving him a cocky grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Peter wasn't sure if he was putting a feeling to the expression in Wade's eyes but he could see the pain and anger. He looked away, chewing on his tongue. Wade slapped his shoulder again, “Come on, let's go meet up with Domino before we have to get back on the train.”

“What about that banquet?” Peter stumbled as Wade pushed him forward, finding a firm grip on his shoulders.

“That's more for these folks than us, plus. I got a feeling you don't actually want to go.” Wade led Peter off the stage. Peter briefly glanced back to Nessa who just seemed to nod. He wasn't sure what was going on but kept himself quiet as they walked down the worn dirt path. A few armed peacekeepers walked by, catching Peter's eye. He watched them walk away, “Wade?”

“What's up baby boy?” Wade steered Peter towards a building.

“Why are the peacekeepers armed here?”

Wade glanced back to see the disappearing shape, shrugging his shoulders, popping out his lower lip, “Not sure. You could ask Domino.”

Peter narrowed his eyes but let the subject drop for the moment. Domino walked over to them with two plates balanced in her hands, “There you two are. I can't believe I actually thought you'd go to the banquet for a change Wade.”

“That's what they want you to do.” Wade smirked, taking one of the plates and shoving it into Peter's chest, “Eat up baby boy.”

Peter grabbed at the plate, not wanting the food to fall. He glanced down at the meal. It was meager but had filling foods, he felt a small pang of guilt for taking food from people that clearly needed it. He poked around at the food, nibbling ever so often as he glanced around them. They were positioned in between two large warehouses that were rusting but held no holes. Absently, he listened to Domino and Wade talking but didn't listen to any of the words. He glanced over to them, taking in the relaxed posture between them even as Domino punched Wade in the arm. Knowing Wade, it was probably for something dirty; Peter rolled his eyes and let his gaze drop to his food. When their plates were barren and the sun had finally disappeared, the three of them made their way back to the station. Wade nudged Domino in the arm before stepping onto the train. Nessa gave her a wink, leaving Peter alone with her.

He glanced over, “Why are the peacekeepers armed?” He pitched his voice lower, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Domino tilted her head to the side, looking at Peter for a while before saying, “Because people are sick of the way things are. So they're fighting back and I don't blame them... do you?” She didn't wait for a response, walking away and leaving Peter to stand there to take in her words. The train lets out a whistle, jolting Peter into racing onto the train. He didn't join Nessa, Weasel and Wade, instead he immediately went to his room, letting the door slid shut with a hiss. He let out a sigh as he flopped onto the ground. He had to do this for 9 more districts. He could do this. It couldn't be too hard, right?

If Present Peter could go back in time, he'd slap Past Peter across the face. When they arrived in District 10, whatever ease Peter had felt about talking to the districts evaporated. Armed peacekeepers and low humming fences lined every path around 10. They were led to the City Hall by the peacekeepers flanking all sides. Peter had glanced back to Wade, opening his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but Wade shook his head and nodded ahead of them. Questions flooded Peter’s mind as they were marched ahead as though they were going to jail. Once they were within the hall, the doors were firmly closed behind them. The only lights that lit the dilapidated building were worn candles. Peter glanced around, trying to see if the shadows would reveal any hidden secrets.

“Well that's welcoming...” Weasel broke the tense silence. Peter echoed the response with a small, nervous laugh. They fall back into the tense silence for it to be broken by the doors opening and two figures walking in.

“Welcome to 10, Peter.” The two individuals stand in front of him. A taller woman who looked terrifying with a neat bob of red hair. It made Peter feel a punch of guilt when his mind thought back to MJ. The man next to her was quiet but shared the same intense look.

“Don't scare him too bad Nat.” Wade called out, “Care to explain what the fuck is going on around here?”

Peter's gaze remained intent on the two newcomers. He watched a hardness grow over their faces and the male spoke up, “Not here.”

That seemed enough for Wade but Peter could still hear a small rumble coming from behind him. A hand gripped Peter's shoulder and he glanced over to see Nessa standing next to him, “Since they're just as shit as Wade for introductions. Peter, this is Natasha and Clint, both victors of District 10.”

He glances between them and they just nod in acknowledgement, neither seeming all that concerned about manners. Natasha looked back down to Peter, “We're here to tell you that your speech will be delivered within this building as the peacekeepers don't trust the population.” Each one of her words was dripping in hatred although her face denied any visible upset.

Peter doesn't know what to say so he just nods and that seemed to be enough. Nessa cleared her throat, “Someplace we can relax before that speech?” Peter cocked his head to the side, noticing the strange tone but wasn't able to say anything before he was being pushed to follow Natasha and Clint. They were led through a hallway and brought into a furnished room. It lacked any homeyness and if Peter looked close enough he could see indents where items had once been. The bars over the window seemed more menacing than the ones back in 12. He glanced back to ask but was interrupted by Weasel pushing him onto the couch and shoving notecards into his face. He glanced up to see Nessa, Wade, Clint and Natasha grouped together, talking in hushed tones. Any time he opened his mouth to ask them something, Weasel quickly covered it. He grew more irritated each time, feeling like a child.

When it came time for his speech, it was kept surprisingly short and he spoke in front of a camera. They had moved him back out into the foyer, his only companion was Weasel. As he spoke, he could hear the dulled roar of discontent from outside. He found himself glancing behind him as if the doors would give way at any moment to a flood of angry people. By the time he had ended what little words he had spoken, Weasel had let out a string of annoyed grunts, “One task Peter. Just one, talk into the camera.”

“Well it's hard to do that when you have what sounds like an army out there!” Peter snapped back, throwing the notecards to the ground.

“It's your job to try and calm that, not bring focus to it! You do realize that not just this district is seeing this. ALL the districts see these!”

“Then their shouting will be heard as well. Why are you getting mad at me for something I can't control?” Peter threw up his hands, brushing past Weasel to head back to the room. He could hear Weasel's annoyed shouts from behind him but he paid it no mind as he stormed away. He wasn't sure why Weasel was getting angry at him. He couldn't control how people felt and if Domino's words meant anything, then good for them. He stopped in front of the door and could hear the low murmurs of voices behind them.

“Don't think that helped at all.”

“They never do. All it ever does is serve as a reminder of what we're losing. These games have gone on for too long.”

“Fightin' the way you guys are, isn't helping either.”

“You say that like we have any sway over them Wade.”

Peter chewed on his lip as he stared at the door. Wade had said these speeches were supposed to help boost morale for the districts, but he was starting to second guess those words. How was he supposed to boost morale for the Capitol when people were already angry? There was no logical way to turn people's viewpoints to see the games as positive, especially when he hated them himself. His gaze dropped to the floor. He wasn't sure how he was going to get through the rest of the districts if they were anything like this.

“Peter?” His name being spoken, snapped his head up to see Nessa looking at him with a worried smile, “Spacing out there?”

He blinked, shaking his head to clear his thoughts before offering her a small smile, “Yeah I guess. How long are we here for?”

Her smile turned into a frown, “Not long, we've got to get back on the train to make it to 9 before tomorrow night.”

He nodded, looking over her shoulder to Wade, Natasha and Clint, “Well it was nice meeting you both.” They gave him a nod before Clint shared a look with Wade. The pair of them left shortly after followed by Nessa who went to deal with the irate Weasel. Peter looked over to Wade who seemed to be staring out the window, “Wade?”

“Mm?”

He opened his mouth to say something but shook his head, “Nevermind... We should probably go.” He had questions but he wasn't sure if Wade would give him any answers or if those answers would be correct information at all. The march back to the station is even more tense than the welcoming. It was dizzying how little time they had spent in the district only to be pushed back onto the train. When they were secured back on the train car, Peter flopped into one of the couches, covering his eyes with his arms. If 10 was any indication on how the other districts were going to be, Peter would like to decline any further visits. He was trying to wrap his head around the rebellion that his parents had talked of and the actual impact that it was making. He wondered if his parents had been key figures in it or just another pair for the masses. How did Death factor into this? They knew his parents and yet they kept their mouth firmly shut whenever Peter tried to gain anymore knowledge. Wade and Nessa seemed to have some understanding of what was going on, but were keeping him out. Did they think he wasn't going to agree with them? Did they think that he was too young? He couldn't stop the annoyed huff that he let out. He wasn't young enough to be put into games to the death, he could deal with a rebellion. Or at least he hoped he could.

The blur of districts 9 through 3 had passed in the blink of an eye. Peter wasn't quite sure if that had been a good or a bad thing. The dizzying amount of victors that he had met before and after each speech had been profound. He could barely remember what any of them spoke of but he could remember who was where. Steve and Bucky were from 8 and he could remember feeling so welcomed by both of them. Loki and Thor were in 7 and were such polar opposites that it was hilarious to see the pair interact with each other. Cable was in 5 and Wade had a field day talking circles around the older man. District 3 had been a breath of fresh air, although he was nervous about returning home. He knew that he could easily move back into his parents' house but it didn't feel right anymore. Bruce and Tony had been equally overwhelming and welcoming at the same time. They both surrounded him with questions but seemed to back off the moment Wade came storming up.

They were on their way to 2, Peter knew they were getting close. He propped his head into his hand as he stared out the window, looking out at the passing world. The hiss of the door brought his attention inward to see Wade walking in. Wade's face lit up when he noticed Peter and Peter pushed the warm feeling away when he offered him a brief smile, “Hey Wade.”

“Heya Petey-pie. Ready to get this whole thing over with?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah I'm sick of all this. I sincerely hope that I don't have to do this nonsense after this. How do you deal with this?”

There was a twitch in Wade's smile that Peter catalogued in all the other strange behavior. Wade flopped into the couch next to him, propping his arms loosely along the back, “Well you see, when you're as awesome as I am.”

Peter scoffed, rolling his eyes as he nudged Wade firmly in the thigh with his foot, “Oh get over yourself.”

Wade let out a laugh before turning his attention to the mountainous terrain outside. Peter couldn't help but wonder if Wade had constant reminders of his games whenever he went to District 2. He was afraid to ask, not wanting to drag out information that Wade seemed happy enough to forget ever happened. Wade cleared his throat, “Do me a favor when we're in 2. Stick near me or Nessa.”

Peter cocked his head to the side, “Why?”

Wade refused to look at him, keeping his eyes firmly on the glass, “District 2 is... a hard place and I don't mean like in 12.”

“Not really answering the question.”

“Let's just say the victors there will probably size you up to eat over wanting to actually meet you.” He shrugged, “Just keep away from them.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply but the sudden shift of a clearing ahead pulled him away. He looked out the window, shifting closer to the back of the couch when he noticed a large tunnel appearing rapidly. Within an instant they were enveloped in darkness with brief spots of light showing an uneven rock face around them. Peter watched the walls fly by before glancing over to Wade. There was a hardness in his eyes even with the smile still on his face. Peter reached over, putting a hand on Wade's arm. Wade's eyes flickered over to him, the light that raced by them casted a strange glow to his blue eyes. The warm feeling from before surges forward with enough force that it nearly causes Peter to jerk forward. He fought himself, looking away and hoping that the darkness around them provides some cover for the blush that formed. Peter jerked up from his seat, walking back towards the dining car to meet with Nessa and Weasel.

By the time he had gotten to them, the train had come to a stop within the cavernous environment of 2. He couldn't help but feel a little nervous and excited to see how people lived in 2. He had heard plenty of stories when he lived in 3 but nothing more than that. They stepped off the train with Weasel and Nessa on either of his sides, while Wade hung further back from them. There were peacekeepers waiting for them but three other individuals who stood in front of them.

“Welcome to District 2.” One of the men stepped forward, a cruel smirk sitting on his face that instantly put Peter on edge.

“You will have to forgive that not everyone is here to meet you. Victors aren't that big of a deal here.” His voice had an arrogant charm to it that gave off an edge that every word he said had a double meaning. Peter's patience was rapidly depleting with each word he spoke. The man continued, “You're quite lucky that the three of us even came by to greet you.”

“Keep hamming it up Francis, everyone loves listening to your grading voice.” Wade snarked with more venom than Peter expected.

“Oh good... Looks like the butcher has come around, what's wrong, Wade?” Francis turned his harsh gaze to Wade, “Did you wake up on the wrong side?”

A feral growl came out from Wade but Nessa breezed over it, aloofly glancing between them, “Peter, this is Angel, Ajax and Fury.”

Peter's brow furrowed for a moment as he looked at Francis/Ajax, “Isn't Ajax a soap?”

Francis's face shifted to sheer rage when his gaze snapped back to Peter. He could hear Wade behind him letting out a roar of laughter, while Weasel was quietly trying to cover his up.

“Enough with this shit.” Fury pushed by Francis, stepping closer to them. Once he was closer, Peter noticed the glossiness of his right eye and the scars that hung around them. He felt himself tense up when Fury's eyes glanced over him before landing on Weasel, “Let's get this speech over with.”

Without not much more preamble, he turned and walked ahead of them. The peacekeepers filed in after him. Ajax shot another dirty glare at Peter before nudging Angel forward. Nessa squeezed Peter's shoulder, pushing him forward. As they marched ahead, Peter glanced around, taking in the rickety platforms that hung around the walls of the cavern. They went up for miles, branching off into holes until he couldn't take staring at the bright light pouring in from above. He rubbed at his eyes, curious how the district lived within the mountain. There was already a crowd of citizens standing in front of the stage, all of them watching as they came closer. Weasel muttered something as he shoved the notecards into his hands. Peter fumbled but managed to keep hold of them as he stepped onto the stage. He cleared his throat before stepping in front of the mic, “Thank you for welcoming me into your district. The strength that District 2 provides to the Capitol and to the other districts gives everyone the protection that is necessary to living our lives in peace. Through this strength, we grow as a stronger Panem.”

There was a loud cheer that caused Peter to pause, glancing out to the happy faces ahead of him. He bit the inside of his cheek as he spoke, “The tributes that were lost in the 49th games will not be forgotten and it is thanks to their sacrifice that I am able to stand before you. I thank you for your strength and support in the Capitol and Panem.”

He felt his stomach do flips when the crowd applauded and let out a longer cheer. He stepped away from the mic, glancing back to Wade and Nessa who gave him a brief nod. He didn't listen to the mayor speak but kept his eyes out on the crowd until they dispersed, returning to whatever work they had been doing before. Peter wanted to let out a breath of relief but he could feel Francis and Angel's eyes burning into his side. The mayor shook his hand before leaving with the platoon of peacekeepers.

“Nice speech Peter Parker.” Francis voice felt like needles against his skin, “Tell me, do you believe your own words?”

“Lay off Ajax.” Fury rumbled at him. There was a brief glance shared between the two before Ajax huffed. He stood up and brushed by Peter, muttering just low enough for Peter to be the only one to hear, “How will your little speeches last in the upcoming games?”

Angel followed after, leaving Fury who was rubbing at his head, “They're both children who act like they get to play at the adult table.”

“You mean your table, cyclops?”

“Don't start with me Wade. All of you get the fuck outta here before my headache turns into a migraine.” Fury didn't bother looking up as he pointed them off the stage. Nessa ushered Peter off with Weasel following in their footsteps. Peter glanced back to see Wade still sitting on the stage, his lips moving but he wasn't able to hear anything. The trek back to the train was short and uneventful. It almost seemed lackluster to the ending of his tour but he was relieved by it. He was looking forward to going home and returning to his routine.

Peter sat in one of the chairs in the rear car, glancing out the window while they waited for Wade to join them. He couldn't help but think of what Francis said. He had been avoiding thinking about the upcoming games. He didn't want to think about having to try and help tributes when he could still barely deal with them himself. His fingers dug into the fabric of his pants, missing the hiss of the automatic door and Wade's loud footsteps. There was a faint buzz of conversation around him, but Peter wasn't paying attention. The jerk of the train pulled his attention to snap to everyone around him. They were looking at him expectantly.

“What?”

Nessa let out a huff of laughter, “We were asking if you're ready to go home.”

“Oh.. yeah.” He nodded, “I'm going to head to my room.” He missed the shared looks between Wade and Nessa as he quickly made his escape. He ran his fingers over his pants as he tried to banish the thoughts of the games. He was going to have to help tributes survive and then deal with the fallout of if one or both of them died. Peter was thankful enough that he didn't collapse from the weight of his thoughts until he got to his room. The door shut firmly behind him as he tried to take in deep breaths. He lost track of time, focusing on his breaths and keeping a focused stare on different items in his room. A light knock broke his stupor but he didn't reply.

“Heya baby boy. Just wanted to check and see if you wanted to join us for dinner.” Wade's voice was gentle and it made Peter feel worse.

“I'm not hungry.” He gripped his knees as he clutched his eyes closed. He didn't need Wade seeing him fall apart again. Wade had enough troubles with his Capitol visits and his own game issues, he didn't need Peter's anxiety added on.

“Alright. Well if you want something, let us know, alright?” Peter didn't reply, but he held his breath until he heard Wade's footsteps fade away. He puffed out a breath as he hit his head against the door, looking up to the ceiling. How was he supposed to deal with this for the rest of his life?

He remained in his room for the next few days, refusing to leave for anything. He knew that he was worrying everyone but he wasn't ready to face them with his issues. He tried to remind himself that they were willing to listen, especially Wade but that only made him feel guilty. He barely knew how either of them felt about their games and at this point, he was too afraid to ask. When the train returned to 12, he left without saying a word, ignoring the worried expression on Wade's face or the remorse on Nessa's face.

~*~

Winter gave way to Spring and the district had bloomed into a range of color that was so rarely seen. It flooded everyone with a sense of hope for the year, but Wade was filled with dread. Spring was well into itself that everyone was desperately trying not to remember what would be happening within a month's time. Wade had been mentally counting down the days until the next games. The president had been silent when it came to any news regarding the Quarterly Games. The holos had gotten so bad that there were near nightly interviews with previous victors on what President Osborne could do to mark such a momentous occasion. Wade always turned off the holos much to Al's annoyance. He didn't want to be reminded that whoever got picked as tributes for these games were going to be going into literal Hell.

To top off everything, Wade had been struggling with his own feelings regarding Peter. They had gotten far closer over Peter's tour and he wasn't sure what to make of that. He had been trying to tamper his affections for Peter. He had so many reasons to keep himself away from Peter. There was their age gap; 5 years wasn't that large but it could still be considered odd. Wade wasn't sure if Peter even felt that way about him or men, in general. Though the biggest factor was that Wade was scarred and deformed beneath the pretty image of what the Capitol wanted to see. His mental sanity didn't help factors either. So he kept his growing affection to himself.

It was getting harder but Peter had begun to withdraw from spending time together. Wade was writing it up to the games coming up again, yet he refused to go and confirm it with Peter. He took to interrupting Nessa's free time, whining about various things. He was trying desperately to ignore the root of the problem and it had escalated to completely ridiculous.

“Wade. If you open your mouth one more time to whine about some bullshit to do with how you fucked up your breakfast, I'm going to bury you in a deep hole in the woods.” Nessa had given Wade the scariest stink-eye he had ever seen. He backed off Nessa and turned to whining in Al's ear. That had lasted all but a day before he was being slapped with her slippers and kicked out of his own house.

Wade sat on the stairs, still able to hear the muffled ranting of Al. He rested his chin in his hand as he stared out at nowhere in particular. Wade was weighing his options of if he would be able to go back into the house before or after dinner. Al was a woman of relative routine, so he knew that she'd end up falling asleep either before or after dinner. He could sneak back in and go to his room without having to deal with anyone. He barely noticed the shadow that blocked the late afternoon sun.

“Wade?” Wade lifted his head, looking up to see Peter leaning over with concern written all over his face.

“Got kicked out of my own house.” Wade let his gaze drop down, looking at Peter's worn boots. He could hear Peter's scoffed laughter but he didn't say anything else.

“Want to go for a walk? I'm sure you're thinking about trying to go back in there but I don't think that'd be smart. Al would end you before you even got a foot in the door.” Peter was chuckling.

“Yeah, you're probably right.” Wade pushed off himself to stand, dusting off the back of his pants, “Lead the way Mr. Parker.”

Peter cringed, “Since when have you called me that?”

Wade shrugged nonchalantly, but made no reply. They walked toward their typical fence exit.

[Push him away]

{Do you honestly think someone would like you, let alone love you?}

[Pathetic]

He clenched his jaw, turning his gaze to the ground in front of him. He made sure there was space between himself and Peter. He needed to force himself to give Peter space or he was going to fall into his own feelings. Wade focused on his breathing and the crunch of fresh grass beneath his own boots. He glanced up, noticing that they were going into the forest and not to their usual spot. He looked at the back of Peter's head, tilting his head sideways out of curiosity, “You takin' me somewhere Mr. Parker?”

“It hasn't been that long since we talked Wade.”

“Missin' the nicknames?”

There was a flush to Peter's neck that made Wade feel bold. He sped up his stride to walk next to him, “I'm gonna take that as a yes, at least with this. I suppose I could bring back the nickname, Peter. But you'll have to do one thing for me first.”

“What's that?” There was a slight blush to Peter's cheeks, but Wade wasn't sure if that was from the excursion of exercise or from Wade.

“Where have you been baby boy?”

“I uh... been busy.” Peter looked away from him.

“Uh-huh. That's not really an answer, want to try again?”

“I have been busy. The games are coming up and I'm... having a hard time with it.”

“So you decided to isolate yourself instead of asking for help? Petey, I thought we had gotten past this. I knew you were going to have a hard time, but you don't need to do this by yourself.” Wade let out a sigh, reaching over and putting a hesitant hand on Peter's shoulder. They came to a stop, Peter still not looking at Wade.

“Listen Pete, I'm awful when it comes to this whole mentoring thing. I'm still trying to figure out why it's me you end up talking to, but you can talk to me.” He squeezed Peter's shoulder.

“What if I fail them?” There was a break in Peter's quiet voice that broke Wade's heart.

He twisted Peter's body to face him, using his free hand to tilt Peter's face to him by holding onto his chin, “Then Nessa and I failed them as well. You've been in that arena baby boy and you made it out on your own merits.”

“Gwen's ribbon...”

“I did that because you were giving up. You made it so far and you were giving up a chance to come home.” Wade let out a huff, gently pinching Peter's chin with his thumb, “You were the only tribute that had gotten so far. Sure I didn't help as well as I should have, but you made it there on your own. Why won't you still accept that you survived by your own skills?”

“Because I did it at the cost of others Wade. Now I'm supposed to help these new tributes by telling them how to kill others. I can't do that!” Peter's eyes were glazed over and Wade could see tears threatening to fall.

“Baby boy...” Wade's heart clenched as he pulled him in close, hugging him tightly, “You can't save everyone in our world Petey. Sometimes, all you can do is let go.”

“But why can't I?” Peter's voice was muffled. Wade could feel his voice vibrating through his chest.

Wade couldn't stop the short laugh that came out, “You're trying so hard to be a hero in a world of shit. I admire the fuck outta you. God, you're a fucking angel. Baby boy, you'll balance Nessa and I. She tries to avoid the subject and I'm too intense. You'll be the one to help rein us in. You'll be the voice of reason and empathy.” He pulled back enough to look down at Peter's face. His shirt was feeling a little damp from where Peter had cried into him.

“What is going to happen if they die?” Peter's voice quivered as he gripped at Wade's sleeves.

“Then we talk about that and you can cry and rant and destroy everything around you. But we'll get through that as a team. That's something you knocked into my head during your games.” Wade smiled, cupping his hands on Peter's cheeks, keeping his brown eyes on him, “How about we take this a step at a time, hm?”

Peter's eyes welled with tears again as he looked up at him, giving him as much of a nod as he could, “Okay.”

The sun was setting around them. The deep orange light breaking through the leaves cast dark shadows that stretched across Peter's face. Wade was captivated, his eyes taking in every detail on Peter's face. The orange made Peter's brown eyes look like it has flecks of gold. He tilts his head, letting his gaze drop down to Peter's lips. He bowed his head to rest against Peter's forehead. He stayed there for a moment, feeling the warmth radiating from Peter. Wade and Peter's eyes stared into each other, neither sure whose breath was coming out uneven or shaky.

Wade's nose brushed against Peter's. He found his lips brushing against Peter's lips. They were soft against Wade's chapped lips. He gently pushed his fingers into Peter's cheeks, holding a firm grip on him. Wade didn't initially follow the brief kiss, but he couldn't stop himself. An intake of breath from Peter brought their lips colliding again. No inquisition with this kiss as Wade brought his body close, letting the kiss deepen. Peter's grip tightened on Wade's sleeve as he let out a short breath, sliding his lips to meet Wade's until he had Wade's bottom lip. He offered a hesitant nibble, causing Wade to let out a sharp hiss. Peter pulled away, a small tremor running through his body, “Sorry! Did I hu-!”

Wade let a growl rumble as he recaptured Peter's lips, pulling him close. He pulled away, forcing himself to slow, letting out another breath, “Petey...”

Peter looked up at him, opening his mouth to say something, but a shrill crackling noise came from behind them. Both their attention snapped back to the fence. Wade's eyes grew wide, “Shit!”

Wade's grip immediately left Peter as he took a few steps back towards the district. Peter's brows were furrowed, “What's going on?”

“They're turning the fucking fence on!” Wade snapped, “Let's go!” Wade stepped back, gripping Peter's wrist and yanking him forward as they raced back to the fence. Getting closer, Wade could hear the groan of electricity warming up. Wade could see the fence a few feet ahead but the groaning was turning into clicks. He swore under his breath as he pulled Peter close. He yanked Peter in front of him and pushed him through the fence. Peter landed with a thud and a groan while Wade moved through the thick wires as the clicked turned into a hum. He felt a brief jolt as he pulled away.

“Shit.” He shook his hand, glancing as the projection glitched for a moment. He stared at his scars until the projection stabilized, shielding what was beneath. Both of them let out puffs of breath as they listened to the loud hum going through the wires.

“What's going on?”

“I don't know. They've never turned on these fences so early...” Wade looked down at Peter, offering him a hand before pulling him up.

Wade held his hand for a while longer before letting go, clearing his throat, “Uh.. Let's head home.”

They walked in silence all the way to Victor's Row. Wade was a gentleman enough to walk Peter to his door. Wade gave him a smile before quickly retreating to his own house. He slammed open the door before kicking it closed, leaning against it.

[Do you think you'll get a happy ending?]

{Oh no, you're going to end up dead}

[Or you'll kill him]

{You'll have no happy ending}

Wade clenched his jaw, shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Wade? Is that your dumb ass? Get in here!” Al's voice called from the living room. Wade grunted, pushing away from the door, walking into the living room to see Al sitting in her chair with the holoscreen on.

“What's going on?” Wade glanced between her and the screen.

“Don't know, heard it pop on and that there's a message from the president.”

“Probably about the games...” Wade sighed. That was exactly what he needed at this moment. He flopped onto the couch, looking at the 'Please Wait' logo rotating on the screen. Across the way in Nessa's house, she was rubbing her hands in a rag, looking at the screen while some music played in the background. Peter was bullied to sitting in between Ben and May, while May was giving Peter a side-look at his rumpled appearance.

The screen came to life, showing President Norman sitting at his office with a snide smile on his face. He cleared his voice before speaking, “Good Evening Panem. It has been some time since I have addressed all our districts personally, so let me spare a moment to wish each of you a happy season. It has come to my notice that there have been many who wish to hear about the upcoming games. Now I have spent a long time deliberating with our gamekeeper and we have come to a decision.”

“Fucking that's what we needed to hear.” Wade grumbled.

“Shut up boy! You'll need to know what's going on.” Al snapped at him, waving her hand.

He paused for added effect, “Now this will be our second quarterly game and we felt something special was needed. Life is such a thrilling thing and it is always good to have a reminder; that no matter how hard you have fought, you will still have to fight. This 50th Hunger Games we will see our victor's return to the arena.”

Nessa stared at the screen, no longer listening to what the president had to say. She was propped up against the archway, gripping her rag tightly. She looked at the screen with an unsurprised sorrow before letting out a sigh. She turned her back to the living room, returning to her office, twisting the rag between her hands.

Peter sat dumbfounded, staring at the screen as if this was some kind of cruel prank. Besides him, Ben was shouting at the screen, throwing anything that he could find at the screen. It would cause the screen to glitch for a moment before solidifying. May didn't say anything. She slid her hand onto Peter's leg and kept it there while Ben raged. Peter didn't want to believe what he heard. He couldn't feel anything; no shock or remorse, but a small pang of acceptance.

Wade bolted to his feet as he let out a roar of rage, “THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE!” He grabbed the coffee table, throwing it into the wall of bookshelves. Several books shudder off the shelves while the table shattered, raining down onto the floor. Wade slammed his fist into the shelf that held the screen. The screen glitched before shutting off, darkening the room. Wade slams his fist again into the shelf, breaking the skin on his knuckles, blood lazily oozing down his hand.

“FUCK!” Wade dashes out of the room, leaving Al alone in the room. She lets out a sigh. She listens to Wade run out of the house, the door still hanging open while Wade's hysterical laughter grows more distant.

She runs her hands together as she says, “The odds are never in our favor... No one truly wins the games.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around with me on this journey! I did leave it on a cliffhanger, so perhaps there may be more! Or perhaps I'll leave it here, I'm still thinking about it.
> 
> Either way! Thank you for any kudos, comments and reading this massive fic! I so greatly appreciate it.


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